


Bucky Barnes One Shots

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Doctor!Bucky, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, First Aid, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Kitchen Sex, Meant To Be, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mouth-to-Mouth, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Shameless Smut, Smut, Whump, Whumptober 2020, field triage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 46,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: A place for all my Bucky Barnes Drabbles and One-Shots (the shorter ones) from Tumblr. Each chapter is Bucky x Reader, and each chapter is a separate one-shot. Please check the warnings listed before each chapter.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 78
Kudos: 269





	1. Midnight Snack (Fluff and Smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Smut, Oral sex (Female receiving), Fluff, Bad food-related sexual innuendos
> 
> A/N: This drabble is for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club‘s “Clean up the Archive Challenge.” The prompt was “Really? You wanna have sex...here?”

“I’m starving,” Bucky whined.

It was late, and everyone had already headed to bed after another successful movie night. The only ones left were you and Bucky…unless you counted Steve, who was snoring softly from the couch.

This was the third time Bucky had said he was hungry, probably fishing for you to make him a sandwich or something. The man had an insatiable appetite. You were sitting on the kitchen counter answering a text from Nat, so you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat, Buck?” you asked distractedly as you toed open the refrigerator door, peeking at what was inside.

He didn’t respond, and that got your attention. Your head popped up. Bucky was leaning against the opposite counter, and you nearly dropped your phone when you saw the hungry look on his face. With a casual smirk and the flick of his tongue across his lips, he raked his eyes over your figure. His eyes were black with lust. The heat of his gaze was _doing_ something to you, and Bucky knew it.

His grin widened and he pushed off the counter, and you pressed your knees together as if to contain the wetness pooling between them. Bucky slowly and dramatically pushed the door of the fridge closed.

“There’s nothing I want in there.”

Bucky walked up to you and gently pulled your legs apart, gripping your hips and sliding you forward. He leaned into you, his lips barely grazing your skin as he bent close to your ear.

“What I want to eat is already sitting right on the counter,” he whispered.

Bucky ground his hips against you, and you bit your lip when you felt his erection press against your leg. It was all you could do to stop yourself from ripping his clothes off right then and there…you were in the middle of the common area, after all.

A loud snore from the couch reminded you that you weren’t alone, either.

**“Really? You wanna have sex…here?”**

Bucky chuckled and nipped your ear playfully. “What can I say, doll…I’m hungry.”

You squeaked as his fingers brushed up under the shorts you were wearing, stopping just shy of where you wanted them. His mouth found yours, and you fisted your hands in his shirt, tugging him closer as his tongue flicked into your mouth.

“What did you expect, showing this much leg…I’ve been hungry for you all night…”

He murmured the words against your lips as his fingers found your core, and he groaned softly at the wetness he found there. Still, he continued to tease you, running his fingers across you with a feather light touch that left you dizzy with need.

“Somebody’s gonna see,” you panted, your resolve wavering.

“No they won’t, everyone’s gone to bed.”

“B-But Steve’s sleeping right over there!”

Bucky hummed. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t you?”

His finger grazed over your sensitive bud and you gasped, quickly clamping your mouth shut as he slowly increased pressure. He bent down and whispered in your ear.

“You can do that, can’t you doll? Can you be a good girl for me?”

Bucky’s enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but play along. The man’s tongue was positively sinful, and he loved going down on you. You nodded and he smiled wickedly.

“I promise, I’ll make you feel so good.”

Bucky gently pushed you back against the countertop and eased your shorts off. He knelt between your thighs and you trembled in anticipation as his breath ghosted across your skin. A long swipe from his soft tongue had you clamping your jaw shut again, trying not to moan as he began to slowly circle your clit.

Licking and sucking with his soft tongue, he brought you closer and closer to the edge until you couldn’t take it anymore. You fingers tightened in his hair and you tugged him up to your lips, giving him a look that silently told him in no uncertain terms that you needed him. Now.

Bucky complied.

He spun you around and bent you over the counter, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. A moment to adjust position and he entered you with one thrust, and you could feel him twitch as you clenched down on him. Bucky’s metal hand tenderly caressed up under your shirt before settling against your lower back, and he started to move.

He set a slow, building pace that made your stomach coil with tension. You could hear him struggling to remain quiet as he thrust against you, and he let out a breathy whimper as you clenched down around him again. Two could play at that game.

The only sounds in the kitchen was your stifled panting and Steve’s soft snores from the couch, something that would have made you laugh out loud if you weren’t currently being fucked into oblivion by Bucky Barnes. The tension built until it spilled over, and you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming as you peaked, feeling him release inside you moments later.

Bucky collapsed against you, his chest heaving against your back as he encircled his arms around you. He lightly kissed your neck and smoothed your hair back from your forehead so he could see your face.

“You’re such a good girl for me…keeping so quiet.”

He laughed softly and bit your side, grinning up at you with adoration. He gently cleaned you up and you pulled your shorts back into place as he handed you a bottle of water.

Bucky’s face was flushed, and he looked positively wrecked. You watched as he tilted the bottle of water to his lips and suddenly, you wanted him again.

“You ready for bed doll?” he asked.

The perfect opening. You fixed him with your best kittenish stare, pouting at him.

“But Bucky, I didn’t get anything to eat.”

Bucky coughed and nearly spat out his water. His eyes flashed.

“Well…we’ll just have to take care of that, won’t we?” he said, taking your hand. “Only this time, I don’t think I want to keep quiet.”

He kissed you hard on the lips before leading you past the common area towards the room you shared.

“I can’t believe he didn’t wake up,” you said, jerking your chin over to the sleeping figure on the couch. Bucky snorted and shook his head.

“Punk sleeps like a rock…damn explosion could go off right next to him, he’d never wake up.”

You stifled a giggle and let Bucky lead you by the hand back to your room. As you passed the couch where Steve slept you noticed the deep red flush in his face, and you wondered if maybe you hadn’t been so quiet after all.


	2. Approach at Your Own Risk (Fluff and Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Arguments, Mentions of PMS
> 
> A/N: This was a request from Tumblr --”Can you write something with Bucky and the reader being in an established relationship and having their first big argument?”

It all started with the dishwasher. A classic case of _what did I do?_ and _no, it’s what you didn’t do._ In this case, it was Bucky failing, once again, to start the dishwasher at night. And now, here you were, feeling bloaty and disgusting and just generally pissed off at the world, looking for your favorite coffee cup so you could enjoy your morning coffee, but no—it was dirty, dried coffee crusted to its side and still sitting in the dishwasher from last night.

The goddamn dishwasher.

In hindsight, it was never about the dishwasher at all. Maybe you knew that then…probably not though. It was “that time of the month,” and you were a raging ball of hormones and low self-esteem, your emotions one big rollercoaster.

Your current emotion was irritation, and that’s what Bucky walked in on.

You heard him enter the kitchen behind you with a cherry, “Morning, doll,” that for some reason really set your teeth on edge. Of course he sounded chipper and well rested, he didn’t have a stomach full of snakes and a headache that had kept him up all night. _He_ didn’t currently feel like his insides were going to fall out, throbbing pain gripping him low and doubling him over.

All you wanted was your favorite mug.

You deftly plucked it out of the dishwasher and slammed the door, demonstrating your level of annoyance.

“Jeez, what’d the dishwasher do to you?” he smirked, getting his own coffee cup.

“It’s not the dishwasher, it’s the person who forgot to start it last night.”

You primly washed out your coffee mug in the sink as Bucky cursed under his breath. He looked so genuinely disappointed in himself, that your irritation immediately dissipated. You were being so bitchy right now, and Bucky had no idea what was going on with you.

You had been dating him for about six months now, and you had just moved in together last week. You were a medical tech who had interned at Stark Industries, and when Mr. Stark heard of your work with advanced robotics, he hired you full time. You had first met Bucky when he had damaged some plates on his metal arm trying to stop a blast door from closing. It had pretty much been love at first sight, and since then he’d only known you a sweet, soft-spoken girl.

Not the fire-breathing she-bitch that you were currently trying _not_ to morph into.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Bucky said lightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You know, if it bothers you that much, why don’t you just start it yourself?”

Wrong fucking answer, Barnes.

Your jaw clenched. “Start it myself.”

Bucky continued, completely oblivious to the hormone induced volcano that was about to explode. “Yeah, I mean, if you’re already right there, it takes two extra seconds. That way you—”

“If it takes two goddamn seconds, why don’t you just do it?” you snapped.

The easy smile vanished from Bucky’s face, and he blinked. “I…uh…”

“Oh, I guess since I make dinner and do the laundry—thank you for at least _attempting_ to get your dirty clothes in the basket this week, by the way— _and_ the cleaning, _and_ taking out the trash, I guess two extra seconds isn’t really all that much, is it?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa…why are you so mad right now? It’s just some dirty dishes.”

“I am not your mother, nor am I your housekeeper, Barnes.”

“Doll, calm down.”

“Don’t you _doll_ , me,” you spat. “You think you’ll just bat those baby blues of yours and I’ll just roll over? Well, you’ve got another thing coming, because I can’t take this anymore!”

Bucky lost it. “What the fuck does that mean—you can’t take it anymore? Am I really that hard to live with? What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me.”

“You started shouting first, you crazy—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, James Buchanan Barnes. “

“ _Woman_. You crazy _woman_ , which is what you are right now,” he said, scowling at you. “Jesus, do you think I’d really call you that?”

He shook his head, his cheeks flushed with anger. You felt your eyes well with tears as he stomped over to the closet and grabbed his jacket. Seriously, what was wrong with you? Bucky was the sweetest man you’d ever met. He absolutely doted on you, and here you were, screaming at him.

Suddenly all the anger left you, and you felt like you were falling down a black hole.

“Bucky…Bucky, I’m sorr—"

“What, are you gonna cry now?” He was still angry, and worst of all, you could see the hurt in his eyes. “You’re sorry? Well you should’ve thought about that before you started screaming and biting my head off, _doll_. All over a goddamn dishwasher.”

He shrugged on his jacket and strode towards the door.

“Bucky, please don’t go—”

Bucky didn’t even look back as he slammed the door in your face.

You sank to the floor, and the tears started falling. Your first argument. Oh god, was this what it was going to be like? Was the spark between the two of you just going to gradually die out until this was the new normal?

You laid on the floor crying for what seemed like hours. This was all your fault—Bucky had stormed out because of a fight _you_ started. You loved him so completely, and you didn’t understand how it could have gone so wrong so quickly. Never in your life had you felt so out of control.

It was late in the afternoon when you heard the sound of a key jiggling in the lock. You were cocooned on the couch in your blankets, Alpine on your stomach, trying to relieve some of the cramps. Your book lay unopened on the coffee table, and you were just starting to drift off when Bucky walked in through the front door.

He called your name softly, like he wasn’t sure if you were even there. You sniffed and sat up, holding Alpine against you.

“I’m in here, Buck.”

You head him drop something by the door and take off his jacket, and you looked up as he walked into the living room. The couch dipped as he sat next to you, and for a while he stared at the floor, his hands clasped between his knees.

“I’m sorry.” You both blurted it out at the same time.

You both laughed nervously, and you took his hand.

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what was wrong with me this morning, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I…I just wasn’t feeling good, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that, and I was way out of line. You do so much for me already, and I was completely ungrateful—I am so sorry, Bucky.”

He huffed and smiled at you gently, running his hand lightly down your arm. “It’s my fault too, sweetheart. I knew you didn’t sleep well last night, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad, and I’m sure I didn’t help things this morning. I just…I um, didn’t realize what was going on with you…”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky blushed bright red. “Um…Nat explained it to me. I talked to her, that is, and she uh…I mean, I know what it _is_ , that time of the month and all, and I—”

“Oh my god.” You were mortified.

Bucky’s eyes went wide, and he soothingly brushed your shoulders. “No, no, it’s okay. Please, I’m not weirded out or anything, just the opposite. I feel horrible, not knowing that you were going through that, and I…I got you some things that will help.”

Your heart clenched. He really was the sweetest man. “Bucky, you didn’t have to—”

“I know, but I hate knowing you're hurting. I want to help, any way I can.” He gripped your hand tightly. “You have to tell me when your hurt or upset. We have to talk about things. It’s different now, living together, and I don’t want a stupid fight about a dishwasher to break us apart. I love you, sweetheart, and I’m not going to let you go.”

“I love you too, Bucky. I hated this—our first fight, and I caused it.”

Bucky smirked at you. “I’m sure I’m going to cause a few fights down the line too, doll.” He rubbed your hand thoughtfully. “I also think I should help out around the house a little more too.”

“Bucky, I—”

“No, really. This is new to us both, and there’s going to be a give and take. We both need to pitch in.”

“And talk more,” you added. “I was just embarrassed, I didn’t want to put my problems on you, but I see how I just ended up causing more. I promise I’ll try to be more open about this kind of stuff.”

Bucky beamed at you, and kissed you firmly on the mouth, cradling your face in his hands. He was the sun after a rainstorm, brightening everything around him. So few people got to see him like this, and you felt a surge of love for him.

He chuckled and pecked you on the cheek. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“What are you—”

But he had already dashed to the bedroom. When he emerged, he was dressed in a soft tee shirt and sweatpants, and he was carrying the bag he had brought in. You started laughing as he unpacked it, setting its contents on the coffee table—Nat had taught him well.

Chocolate. Your favorite coffee, and a new coffee cup. A bottle of ibuprofen. Scented candles and some bath salts.

“There’s only one thing I didn’t get,” Bucky said as he pulled you into his arms, snuggling behind you on the couch. He pulled the blanket over you both and put on Netflix, handing you the remote.

“What’s that?” You asked, selecting the show you both were currently binging.

Bucky settled you into the crook of his arm and pressed his hand against your abdomen. The heat radiating from his hand immediately soothed your cramps. He tenderly kissed the soft spot behind your ear.

“Nat said a heating pad helps with the pain, but I figured this would work just as good…I’m built like a furnace anyway.” His lips trailed along your jaw. “Besides, this way I get to cuddle with my best girl.”

You giggled and he captured your lips in a kiss that took your breath away. Alpine meowed loudly from the coffee table, and you both broke apart, laughing.

“Sorry, Alpine, but I guess you’re fired from heating blanket duty.”


	3. Paging Doctor Barnes (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fluff, Medical Procedures, Sexual Tension
> 
> A/N: This drabble is from Tumblr. The prompt was “Reader has just moved from a new town and has a new patient appointment with Doctor!Barnes”

You sat on the exam table and swung your legs aimlessly. This was one of the worst parts of moving to a new town—having to find a new doctor. You had put it off as long as you could, but with the flu season approaching you finally caved.

So here you sat, waiting to meet your new primary care physician. Finally there was a knock at the door, and it swung open.

“Y/N?”

_Oh, my god, he’s gorgeous._

His eyes were crystal blue sapphires, his full lips parted slightly as he stuttered, staring at you. “H-Hi, I’m Doctor Barnes.”

_Of course you are._

“Hi,” you said meekly.

His cheeks flushed, and he glance down at his clipboard. “So, a new patient exam—what brings your to our little town, Y/N?”

“Um…work,” you said cryptically.

_And a crazy ex, but we won’t get into that._

“What do you do?” He seemed honestly interested.

You told him, and he perked up. The two of you chatted for a bit about your job, and you sensed he was actually listening to you—far beyond the usual “head check” that most practitioners hid behind.

You were so screwed. Doctor Barnes looked like he just stepped off of a runway somewhere, and there was no way you were going to be able to hold yourself together—but at least you’d try. Finally, the conversation about your past fizzled out, and it was down to business.

He nodded, falling into his comfortably clinical routine. “All right, well…we’ll start with your patient history, and then we’ll move into the exam.”

 _That_ part was thankfully short and sweet—you were a rather boring patient when it came to medical history, but one question nearly made you choke on your own spit.

“Are you sexually active?”

“Um…I uh…well, I’m unattached…”

_Fuck!_

You continued quickly. “I, erm, I just moved here, so I guess you can say that’s a no.”

Your face was a tomato. You were the color of cherry red Kool-Aid.

_FML._

If Doctor Barnes seemed to notice, he didn’t show it. The history portion of the visit concluded without further incident, and then it was onto the exam.

Gulp.

Doctor Barnes examined you from head to toe, remaining thoroughly professional despite the flush that remained in his cheeks. He took your temperature and blood pressure, checked your ears, nose and throat, and palpitated your thyroid and tonsils. You thanked every god available that a new patient physical didn’t include a pelvic exam—you wouldn’t have survived.

His fingers were pressed against your wrist as he stared at his watch. He was so close to you. You could smell his cologne, see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his long dark eyelashes as he blinked--

“Your pulse is a little fast, are you feeling okay?”

“Um…what?” You weren’t paying attention.

He frowned, his eyes flicking between yours. “I said your pulse is a little fast.”

He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and fitted it to his ears. “I’m just going to take a quick listen to your heart and lungs, okay?”

“O-Okay.” You felt the warmth of his hand at your back, and the cold of the stethoscope as it pressed to your chest.

Your heart was racing. You knew it, and you knew _he_ knew it too. He moved the stethoscope to the other side of your chest, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to your heartbeat. He slid it down, directly between your breasts, and you felt the heat flare again as your heart really started to pound.

You bit your lip, trying desperately to control yourself, but it was impossible with him standing so close to you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and you suddenly realized his lips were inches from yours.

He was looking at you intently, seemingly not paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and your heartrate kicked up a notch. You knew he heard it, because he exhaled sharply and pulled away.

“Well, uh…everything sounds good, and you have no outstanding issues, so I’d say we’re done here.”

Your heart fell slightly, but you thought your face didn’t betray it.

“Okay…thank you, Doctor Barnes,” you said as you pulled your sweater back on.

Still, he lingered at the computer, and even you could see he wasn’t really imputing anything new. He was a certified stud and you’d felt maybe the slightest spark, but he wasn’t interested in you.

_Wait—at what point where you trying to flirt with him?_

The minutes passed, and he hadn’t left the room. Now you had run out of things to do, and you gripped your purse as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs as you watched him.

Finally, he sighed, and stepped back from the computer.

“Um…I know this is, uh…well,” he fidgeted.

You didn’t say anything.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he blurted.

Your brain froze. Goosebumps tingled and your face felt numb. Now it was his face that was cherry red, and you realized the awkwardness wasn’t one-sided after all.

You slid him a sideways grin. “I don’t think that’s very professional, you being my doctor and all…”

His face fell. “Is that a nice way of saying no?”

“No, it’s a nice way of saying I should find a new doctor…Dr. Barnes.”

He huffed and blinked hard. He bit his lip and surged forward.

“It’s...Bucky. Please…call me Bucky.”

His lips crushed into yours. The paper beneath you crinkled as he pulled you forward, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky’s chest heaved against yours as he gripped your hair, tugging your head back so he could lavish kisses down your throat.

Your hands ran up under his shirt, a groan escaping your lips as you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch. Bucky’s hips pressed against yours, and you could feel his arousal as—

_“Doctor Barnes to the OR, Paging Doctor Barnes to the OR.”_

Bucky pulled away, torn between longing for you and a sense of duty.

“I have to go, doll.”

“I know.”

He scribbled down his number on a section of the exam paper and tore it off, handing it to you.

“I’d really like to see you again, there's a little coffee shop over on Main Street...I’ll be there tonight at seven if you want to get together, if not—”

“I’ll be there…Bucky,” you said. “I’ll see you there.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, blinking hard as he stared at you with an expression of such longing you thought you’d melt right into the linoleum floor. Then, before either of you could react, he pecked you once on the lips, departing the room with a rakish grin.

Smiling, you collected your jacket and looked down at the paper in your hands.

Bucky Barnes (555)207-3578.

You bit your lip as you walked over to patient check-out, wondering how you were even going to make it through dinner.


	4. Fatal Distraction (Whump and Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bucky says something he regrets, he distracts you while on a mission...and you nearly pay for it with your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: *18+**, Very Graphic Whump, Blood and Gore, Field Triage, Trauma, Medical Procedures/CPR, Angst, and a wee bit of fluff at the end.
> 
> A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. This is very graphic, the whump is turned up to 11 on this. If you aren’t a fan of whump, medical trauma, or blood, you should probably skip this one. If you’re not 18, you shouldn’t be reading this.
> 
> A/N: This one-shot was a request from Tumblr, “pure, simple whump of the reader while Bucky tries to save her. Worried Bucky and a possible CPR scene.” Here ya go, I hope I did it justice.

“Goddamnit, Y/N—what the hell was that!”

Bucky slammed his fist down on the table, making everyone jump in surprise, including you. You were all gathered in the conference room, in varying stages of undress—and cleanliness. It had been your first mission, a new agent that Fury had brought in.

“What are you—”

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

You’d _never_ seen him this angry. And unfortunately, it was all directed at you.

“I-I don’t…what did I do? The mission was a –”

“The mission was almost a bust, because of you. Nat almost got killed, because of _you_.”

“Barnes…” Nat warned.

Your jaw clenched. He failed to mention that you’d also been in the blast radius of the bomb when it went off, yet both you and Nat had walked away unharmed.

It was a simple mission—a raid on a minor Hydra Facility, but it had gone south quickly. It seemed everywhere you turned, there was another Hydra agent popping up, foiling Steve’s carefully laid plan. You and Nat had swept the lower levels, where unfortunately a bomb had been set. You both walked away, but it had been a close call.

“It was just bad luck, Bucky,” you said, trying to talk him down.

“Bad luck my ass!” he spat. “You were completely unprofessional out there, making jokes when you should’ve been keeping the line clear and your head in the game! You’re lucky no one got hurt!”

“Buck, that’s enough,” Steve’s face was flushed.

“No. She’s got to learn there’s not place for that attitude on this team. We’re damn lucky no one got hurt today.”

You frowned. Bucky was your friend. He was always joking around with you, during training and in the common room, and—if you were being honest— _he_ was also cracking jokes on the comm line today, just like you both always did.

You’d only been with SHIELD for a few months, but you’d made friends with Bucky from the start. He was quiet and reserved, and often moody, but you had a way of picking him up and making him feel better. The two of you were inseparable, and everyone joked about the two of you having a crush on one another.

You weren’t sure if it was true for Bucky, but it was definitely true for you. Movie nights in the common room and long talks up on the roof, cuddling together under a blanket…Bucky patching you up after a particularly rough training session…falling asleep together on the couch after a long day. It had all led you to the conclusion that maybe there was something more there.

Maybe you were wrong.

“Bucky, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know—”

“You’re sorry?” He was in your face now, and you didn’t dare look round to the faces of the other team members.

“You’re sorry,” he said again, quietly.

“Sorry doesn’t bring someone back. Sorry doesn’t un-fuck a mission, and _sorry_ doesn’t stop Hydra. You’re immature, unprofessional, and honestly, a distraction to everyone. I’m not gonna sit back and let someone get hurt just because you can’t take things seriously.”

Bucky stepped directly in your line of sight. His face was livid, and you’d never seen his blue eyes so cold.

“Bottom line, sweetheart…if you can’t toe the line, you’re out. If you can’t act like an adult, you’ve got no business being here with the rest of us. Once more and you’re off the team.”

You were speechless. Every ounce of color had left your face, and you felt moments away from tears.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You stepped back as if you’d been slapped.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

He shook his head in the direction of the door. “Go get yourself cleaned up.”

Everyone on the team was staring at you in shock. Nobody moved, and the color that had left your face suddenly came flooding back. Numbly, you turned and left the room.

You were mortified. Beyond embarrassed. Bucky had called you out in front of the whole team, and while you’d heard his words, what hurt the most was the fact that it had been _him_ saying them. He didn’t care for you—hell, after today, he probably hated you.

The door to your room was opened by hands with a mind of their own. Yours was currently reeling. You walked in, and sat on the edge of your bed.

Bucky was right. You had no place on a team like this. Who were you kidding? He was a super soldier, and they were the _Avengers_. You were less than nobody—a former CIA special agent with field experience and an impressive arrest record. You were mouthy and loud… _distracting_.

Immature.

Unprofessional.

You curled up on your bed as the tears came, and you cried yourself to sleep, vowing that you’d change and prove him wrong.

***

It had been two months since the incident.

Y/N had done a complete one-eighty since that day. She was cold, calculating. Methodical. She followed mission orders to the letter, never questioning, never arguing. She’d become a cold-blooded killer, ruthless and efficient. The perfect soldier.

To be honest, it scared Bucky.

She’d entered his life like a breath of fresh air, drawing him back into the land of the living. For the longest time after his escape from Hydra he’d hidden in the shadows, wallowing in self-hate and regret. Y/N brought the sunlight back into his life. She’d taught him how to laugh again.

Bucky was completely smitten with her.

It started out as long talks together on the roof—it was their favorite place to escape. Bucky unloaded on her, bearing his soul and all of the horrible things he’d done. Y/N took it all in stride, never judging or pitying him, but instead building him up and giving him confidence. She’d made a man out of him, instead of the hollow empty shell he was.

Bucky thought maybe there could be something more there between them. The looks she gave him sometimes, her touches—they all added up to _something_ , but now…now that something seemed to have been ruined.

It had all come crashing down during that first mission.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the blast from the bomb as it took out the lower levels of the complex where Nat and Y/N still were. The line had gone dead, and Bucky’s heart had stopped. Vaguely, he remembered screaming her name as Steve held him back.

The door of the Quinjet had just begun to close when Nat and Y/N stumbled up, covered in dirt and debris, but otherwise unhurt. They were laughing.

He didn’t really remember the trip back, or the confrontation in the conference room. All Bucky could remember was the fear he felt. Relief that she was okay, yes…but a great and terrible fear that the woman he’d come to love could be snuffed out in an instant.

So he’d vented his feelings, publicly and loudly. Bucky didn’t even remember what he said. He was hurting, he was scared, and it couldn’t have gone any worse than it had.

Because now she wasn’t talking to him. To be honest, though, she wasn’t talking to much of anyone. She’d become a robot—long afternoons in the gym followed by even longer nights studying tactics and theory with Sharon. She rarely smiled, and the only time she opened her mouth was to talk about work.

She hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him since that day.

“What did you expect, Buck?” Steve said when Bucky had confessed his concern. “You can’t dress someone down like that in front of the whole crew and expect her to be your best friend afterwards. You probably embarrassed her.”

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass her.”

“Look, she changed. That’s what you wanted, right? She’s one of the most solid agents we’ve got now,” Sam said from the couch. “We should have you yell at all the new recruits. Seems to snap them right into line.”

Sam meant it in jest, but Bucky felt sick. He didn’t want Y/N to change, he just wanted her to be safe. He loved her the way she was, and he felt horrible that he made her feel like she was worthless. He had to fix this.

Which led them to where they were now.

It was a simple recon mission, high in the Colorado Rockies. On the hunt for a Hydra sleeper cell, but they hadn’t found any trace of them. Bucky tromped through the high grass next to Y/N. She remained on high alert, eyes scanning the horizon for threats.

And utterly silent.

She’d volunteered for this mission, and he made sure he got picked to accompany her. She hadn’t said a word when it was announced, she simply nodded and started stoically packing her gear.

Observing her on this mission, he was impressed with her skill and cold efficiency, yet he hated it at the same time. It was as if something inside her had died, and he felt like it was his hand that had snuffed it out.

The mission was over now, and they were en route back to the safehouse, where they’d wait for retrieval. The sun was shining, the breeze cool and crisp…the perfect time to clear the air.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

She was silent for a moment, scanning the landscape as she continued walking.

“Not now—the cell could still be out here.”

He jogged up next to her, but she ignored him, continuing to remain alert. Bucky dipped down so he could see her eyes.

“Y/N, please. I want to talk to you.”

Her lips tightened in disapproval, and she sighed. “About what?”

“About…about that day in the training room. About what I said, and about…how you’ve changed.”

She shrugged and kept walking. “It was a wake-up call. Something I needed to hear. I’ve tried to take steps to fix my flaws, and I hope I’m up to par now.”

It was the most she’d spoken to him in the last two months, and her words were delivered so coldly devoid of emotion that it broke his heart.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Sunset is in an hour, we need to keep going if we’re going to make it to the safehouse by then. Visibility will be reduced.”

“Y/N.”

Nothing. She kept walking. Her shoulders were a little stiffer, maybe, but other than that it looked like his words had no effect on her. Bucky grit his teeth and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

“Y/N, stop.” Her eyes flicked from his hand to his eyes, and he hated what he saw there. Hurt and embarrassment and just a hint of fear. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said that day, I was just scared. I was the one out of line. _Me_ …not you.”

She shook her head, the muzzle of her rifle drooping as she took her eyes off the landscape around them. The meadow in which they’d stopped was silent, not a single bird call, and that alone should’ve warned him.

“Barnes,” she began, and it hurt him to hear her call him that. “You were right. I was unprofessional and distracting, and—”

_Zipft!_

A bullet hit close-by, and the sapling next to her exploded.

Bucky fell to a knee, shouldering his sniper rifle. Three shooters—the Hydra sleeper team. They’d evaded capture and tracked them to this meadow, and it was all his fault. He had distracted them.

The woods around them was peppered with their bullets.

Bucky fired, and he heard Y/N do the same. She was somewhere behind him, and it sounded like she was still standing, shielded by the tree line. It was over quickly. Three bodies down, and Bucky stood, cycling his bolt.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to get the job done, right, Y/N?”

There was no answer.

“Y/N?”

He turned. She was standing there, her rifle hanging loose in one hand, smoke drifting lazily from its muzzle. The other hand was clamped over her abdomen. Her hand peeled back, and blood welled from the gunshot wound. She looked down at the crimson stain spreading across her stomach, and up at him.

Bucky darted forward and caught her as she fell.

“Y/N!”

It was bad. It was really bad. Blood pulsed from the wound in regular spurts, and he realized the large artery that ran the length of her torso had been hit. He prayed it was only nicked, but even then…

Her breath was coming in short gasps, and he pulled her hands from the wound, trying to see. His fingers probed the hole, and he saw it—the artery _had_ been clipped, and her heart was currently pumping out its lifeblood just as quickly as it could.

_Stop the bleeding. Treat for shock._

Bucky went into soldier-mode, overriding the terror he felt. He jammed his fingers into the wound, cringing at how dirty they were. That was a problem for later. He twisted his fingers, trying to find the source of the bleeding.

Finally—there. He felt the groove along the side of the pulsing artery, and he pressed his finger against it, stopping the blood flow.

Y/N writhed, her back arching as she gasped for breath. Her eyes were glassy with pain, but he forced himself to ignore it.

_Okay, stop the bleeding—how?_

_Cauterize…that’s the quickest way. Out here, it’s the only way._

_How?_

_Fuck!_

Then he remembered his lighter…and his knife.

Without a further thought he ripped the knife from it’s holster, jamming it between his teeth. With his free hand he pulled his lighter and held it to the blade, heating it until it was glowing hot.

He tossed the lighter to the side, and positioned the knife over the wound.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

He jammed the heated metal into the wound, following the finger of his metal hand down to where the damaged artery was. It hurt him, but of course it didn’t damage the metal appendage.

Y/N, on the other hand, arched her back and bit back a scream. Bucky held her down, his vision blurring with tears. He almost wished she would pass out, just so she didn’t have to feel him hurt her anymore. He smelled burnt flesh and the blood flow from the ruined artery slowed to a stop, and he carefully pulled the knife out.

For a moment he just sat there, his head buzzing with adrenaline. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pain.

“B-Bucky…”

“Shh…sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. We’re not far from the safehouse, Sam’s gonna come get us and you’ll be annoying everyone in medical before you know it.”

“So you f-finally admit it…I’m annoying,” she breathed, but her lips twitched into a faint smile. Her eyes were barely open.

“I’ve never thought that, Y/N. l…I was just scared.”

Bucky pulled out his limited field triage kit and wrapped a pressure bandage around the entrance and exit wounds. His hands were trembling. He could barely tie it. His whole body was shaking, and he felt dizzy with fear.

They were in the middle of nowhere, and she was gravely wounded. Her life was in his hands now, and he wasn’t sure if he had the resources or the knowledge to save her.

Sam would, though. Bucky pulled on his dog tags, slipping them from under his shirt. He fumbled for the tiny fob that was clipped to them, and pressed it. It was an emergency beacon, and just knowing they were on their way now made him feel better, if only a little.

_Get your head in the game, Barnes. This is on you now._

He checked her pulse—it was a bit fast, but it was strong and steady, so he had no problem giving her one of the auto-injectors of morphine. He uncapped it with his teeth and jammed it into her thigh. She groaned, and her eyelids fluttered. Carefully, he cradled her head.

“Y/N? Honey, you’ve got to stay awake. Open your eyes, sweetheart…that’s it. Stay with me now.”

Her eyes found his. Bucky gently tightened his grip on her and picked her up. Even with the field triage, her life was still in danger. He had to get her to the safehouse—quickly.

“What’dya mean…scared?” her speech was starting to slur under the effects of the morphine.

“Huh?”

“You s-said…you’re scared.”

“I was just—I thought I’d lost you that day and I was scared. I didn’t even know what I was saying that day in the conference room, I was—Jesus doll, this ain’t the time to be talkin’ through this,” he growled as he picked up the pace.

Y/N moaned, and he kissed her forehead.

“Just a few more miles, sweetheart, and then we’ll be there. They’ll have a proper med kit there, and we’ll get you fixed up. Just stay with me.”

Through the woods and across the rocky landscape he carried her, and she felt weightless in his arms. Her head rolled limply against his shoulder. Bucky tightened his grip as he crested a rise and saw the safehouse below. He jogged down the hill with her in his arms, trying to ignore the blood that had started to seep through the bandages.

He shouldered the door open and laid her on the floor as gently as he could. Her eyes were closed now, and she was deathly pale. Bucky practically ripped the med kit from the wall. He’d used one a few times before, but never for anything like this. He was in way over his head, and he was trying not to panic.

If he panicked, she was dead.

“Y/N, wake up—wake up!”

He tapped the side of her face, lightly at first, then a bit harder. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Just stay with me, Y/N, it’s gonna be okay…you’re gonna be fine.”

_Am I telling her that, or me?_

He pawed through the kit frantically before he found what he was looking for—an IV kit and saline, and most importantly, plasma. He had to replace what she’d already lost before he even began to patch her up.

Bucky tightened the tourniquet around her arm and inserted the IV. He had to hunt a bit for a vein—his hands were shaking too hard to get it the first time. He finally got it though, and got her started on the fluids. A quick check of her pulse told him she was starting to slide into shock.

Blood was also starting to trickle onto the floor. The bandages were saturated.

“Fuck!”

He must not have completely stopped the bleeding. The sodden bandages were pulled off, and he rummaged around in the kit before he found a clotting compound. He wasn’t really sure what it would do, but it had to be better than nothing. He sprinkled it into the wound, and she hissed in pain, a few tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes and melting into her hair.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry sweetheart. I know it hurts. I’m…I’m trying.”

_What was the intervals for morphine? Can I give her more yet?_

He didn’t know, and he could kill her if he overdosed her. He re-bandaged the wound, wondering what else he could do. Frantically, he called out to Sam on his earpiece. They had to be on their way by now, and with the Quinjet’s speed, they should be able to pick up his comms signal soon.

Bucky pulled her in his arms and cradled her, trying to control his breathing and the rising panic he felt. He pressed his lips to her forehead. She felt cold. Beneath his finger her pulse was weak and erratic.

“Bucky…” her breaths were coming in shallow gasps now, and a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead.

She was going into shock. She’d lost too much blood.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.”

“No.” A tear welled over, and he blinked the rest back. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, it’s all me. I never should’ve yelled at you like that, never should’ve made you feel like—”

“Buck…I don’t…hate you.”

He could barely hear her, but her hand weakly clutched at the front of his shirt. Her words would’ve stopped him in his tracks, if the urgency hadn’t been there.

“What?”

“I love you Bucky,” she said simply. “I always have. I…I don’t expect…” she blinked sluggishly. “I…just want…you to…”

Her voice drifted, and her eyes closed.

“Y/N?”

He shook her, and her head fell back limply. Bucky pressed his fingers to her throat.

He felt her pulse flutter, and then stop.

“No!”

Bucky pressed an ear to her chest, praying he was wrong. Nothing.

“No, no, no! Y/N, don’t do this!”

_Don’t just sit there you idiot, do something!_

Bucky interlocked his fingers and positioned the heels of his hands over her heart. He sucked in a deep breath, and began to push.

CPR wasn’t a known technique back in the 1940’s. There were some resuscitation procedures, but they were mostly left up to doctors and nurses. And Hydra, well…teaching the Asset how to save a life wasn’t exactly top priority. When Bucky had become a full-fledged member of the Avengers, though, he’d attended the basic SHIELD recruit training course. It had been tedious, especially the first aid courses.

Bucky was sincerely regretting that label now, as he fumbled to remember every nuance of the course.

_Thirty compressions, two breaths. Tilt the chin up to gain a clear airway. Press down hard, one to two inches…you’re probably going to break some ribs. Jesus Christ, am I even doing this right?_

He shoved off that thought and continued to push down on her chest, compressing her heart and sending vital blood to her organs. He pushed down rhythmically, too focused to notice anything else.

Thirty. He tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to hers, exhaling deeply. And again. Nothing happened. Bucky let out a sob and returned to compressions, forcing her heart to beat. He counted under his breath, watching as her body rocked under his hands.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

Thirty more down, and he sealed his mouth against hers, breathing deep into her lungs. Her chest rose with each exhale, but it wouldn’t rise again until he breathed for her.

He reached thirty again. Two more breaths. It wasn’t working.

On the third round of CPR, he felt one of her ribs crack, and he almost stopped in horror. These were _her_ ribs he was breaking. This was _Y/N_ he was breathing for, _her_ heart he was trying to keep beating.

She said she loved him. He loved her back, and he never got the chance to tell her. Bucky choked back a sob. She was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know what to do. 

He was onto his fourth round now.

Finally, the crackle of comms, and Sam’s voice came through.

“…ucky….o you read me?”

“Sam! We’re still at the beacon, we need help.”

“We’re on our way…what happened?”

“Y/N—she caught a bullet, bad…I…I’ve got no pulse, I’m giving her CPR.”

A brief pause, and Sam was back. “All right, if you’re in the safehouse, there should be a SHIELD medical kit…did you find it?”

“I—Yes, it’s already open.”

“Good. Listen to me Bucky, we’re about ten minutes out. I’m going to talk you through this.”

“Okay,” he panted. Sweat rolled down his face, both from fear and his exertions.

“Look—there should be an AED in the kit. I want you to get it out and attach the leads to her chest, one above her right collarbone and another on the left side of her ribs.”

Bucky placed the leads, and turned on the machine. “Done.”

“Okay, look at the screen and tell me what kind of rhythm she’s got.”

Bucky stomach clenched. “It’s…it’s a flatline.”

“It’s okay, we can work with that,” Sam said. “Buck, re-start CPR and don’t stop until you get something on the monitor.”

Bucky continued through two more rounds, and finally, something.

“Sam there’s…there’s a bunch of squiggly lines…”

“Good! Okay, there should be several small bottles in the kit, find the one labeled ‘Lidocaine’ and inject it directly into her heart.”

“What?!” Bucky felt like he was going to pass out.

“Focus, Buck—you’ve got this. Fill the syringe, tap out the bubbles, and inject it directly between the fourth and fifth ribs along her sternum. Feel for it.”

Bucky did as he was told. He prepared the syringe, and found the spot Sam was describing. He clenched his jaw and his stomach heaved as he plunged the needle into her chest. He slammed the plunger home, and he watched her heartbeat change on the monitor.

“It’s…it looks stronger.”

“Good. Now give her two more breaths, and push the button on the AED. Make sure you’re not touching her. We’re about to land.”

Bucky pushed two more breaths into her, and hit the button. He heard an electric whine, and her body jumped. The monitor went crazy before it settled out into a normal heart rhythm, weak but even.

Bucky sobbed with relief.

The door crashed open behind him and Sam was there, on his knees next to him. Bucky hadn’t even heard them land. Sam’s hands flew over Y/N, checking the monitor and her wound. Bucky scooted out of the way to give him room, unsure of what he should do.

“Let’s get her on the jet, it’s got the better equipment.”

Together, they picked her up and carried Y/N on board. Bucky strapped her down as the jet took off.

“Keep pressure on that wound, Bucky, she’s still bleeding,” he directed.

Bucky pressed down on her stomach as Sam opened her mouth, inserting a tube so she could breathe. He hooked it up to a ventilator, and Bucky saw her heartbeat begin to grow stronger as her airflow increased. Sam started a transfusion, working quickly and quietly, and Bucky felt better just having him there.

The former pararescue’s lips thinned in a line when he saw her wound—the burnt edges where Bucky had cauterized, and the dirt from the ground and his hands. Bucky paled.

“S-Sorry Sam, I…I didn’t know what else—”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Sam said gently. “You did what you had to do. She’s alive, and that’s the important part. Now let’s keep her that way.”

He cleaned out the wound and stopped the bleeding properly, packing it with gauze and wrapping it with another pressure bandage. Noting her vitals were steadily improving, he gave her another dose of morphine along with a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

Bucky watched while Sam worked. Her color was improving, and he almost couldn’t tear his eyes from the proof of life that blipped on the heart monitor. He’d never been so scared in his life. When he got back, he was going to make Sam teach him everything he knew, right after he gave him a big kiss on the mouth.

“You okay, Buck?”

He hadn’t even realized Sam had finished and was standing there, looking at him. It was over. Bucky suddenly felt his knees weaken, and he sat down heavily.

“Hey…hey. She’s gonna be fine, Bucky. She’ll have to have some surgery when we get back, and it’s gonna take her some time to recover, but she’s okay. You saved her life.”

Bucky nodded. He felt like he was either going to cry or throw up, possibly both.

“Was that your first time?”

“Huh?”

“Resuscitating someone—was that your first time?”

Bucky nodded. He was staring at the floor in a daze, and Sam gave him a long look before continuing.

“You did good, Buck. It’s not easy, and it doesn’t always work, even if you do everything perfectly. I’ve done this hundreds of times, and trust me, it never gets easier.” Sam nodded to himself, staring at the ground and lost in thought. “You ever wanna talk about it, I’m here.”

Bucky looked up at him. “Thanks Sam,” he croaked. “Thanks for talkin’ me through it and…and for saving her. I was so scared, I…I just…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and the tears started to fall. Sam hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder, and Bucky leaned into him.

“I know…It’s rough, man, especially when it’s someone you love.”

Bucky looked up at him questioningly. Sam smirked, although it held no humor.

“We all knew you both loved each other, you were both just too stubborn to admit it.” He gestured over to her. “You got a second chance here, Bucky, don’t waste it.”

***

Your eyes slowly blinked open. Head fuzzy. Vision blurred.

Ow.

_Where am I?_

The last thing you remembered clearly was Bucky carrying you to the safehouse. You’d been shot, and you knew it was bad. You were fading, and your last thought was that if you were really dying, his arms wasn’t that bad of a place to do it.

But you didn’t. You were still here, and…and…

You turned your head.

…and so was Bucky.

He was curled up in the chair next to your bed, sound asleep. He looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes and a light stubble on his chin. His short chestnut locks were messy, as if he’d been running his hand through them, and you noticed he was still wearing his uniform, minus the jacket. His dog tags caught the light as his chest gently rose and fell as he slept.

He saved you. You could remember that much. You remembered the terror-stricken look on his face and the tears in his eyes as he pleaded with you to stay. You remembered his apology, and you remembered telling him you loved him, right before the end.

You’d really thought that had been it for you. You never thought you’d open your eyes again, let alone look at him. You’d though he hated you, but his presence here by your bed disproved that.

Bucky wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care.

“Bucky.”

Your voice was hoarse, and your throat felt dry. He must have been only dozing, because he snapped awake at the sound of his name. His eyes widened, seeing yours were open.

“Y/N—you’re awake! Thank god—how are you feeling? Are you in any pain? I can get—”

You caught his hand, stopping him. Bucky’s mouth snapped shut and he sat back in the chair.

“I’m okay Bucky…for now. It hurts, but I don’t want to go back to sleep just yet. I just want to talk.”

Bucky scooted closer, taking your hand in both of his. His eyes searched your face as if he couldn’t believe you were really there.

“I thought I lost you, Y/N. I did there, for a little bit, and it…it terrified me. The thought of a world without you in it. I am so, so sorry that I yelled at you…that I made you feel like you weren’t good enough. I was just—”

“Scared, I know,” you finished. “I remember, Bucky, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I think it was something I needed to hear, and I’m sorry too. I was embarrassed and angry, and I let it build into something that almost compromised us.”

“I distracted _you_ in the field,” he said, shaking his head. “If I hadn’t—”

“Both of us were distracted.”

Bucky fell silent, looking down at your hand in his.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He heard your sharp intake of breath, and blue eyes flicked to yours.

“I love you, and I almost waited until it was too late to tell you. I don’t want you to change. I want you to stay the sweet, funny girl that I fell in love with. The one that got me to smile again. You can distract me any time you like.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun had come out again. Bucky bent down, a little hesitant at first, but when he kissed you there was nothing hesitant about it at all. The kiss was soft and tender. It was so sweet and so incredibly _him_ , that you smiled against his lips.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

Your eyes were starting to get heavy again, and he kissed your forehead, gently caressing your cheek.

“Sleep now, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you mumbled as your eyes started to close.

“I promise,” he said squeezing your hand. “I’m not ever letting you go.”


	5. Just a Little off the Top (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Bucky’s new haircut gives you the courage to tackle your own unruly mane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Pure Fluff
> 
> A/N: This one-shot was requested by a Tumblr who had gone through a similar situation. She requested “a friends to lovers emotional hurt/comfort on the basis of cutting hair.” Enjoy!

_Twang!_

You bit back a scream of fury as yet another hair-tie broke. That was the second one today. At this rate, you were going to have to stop by the drugstore on your way home from work and pick up some new ones.

_Or you could just get your hair cut…you look like Hermione Grainger._

Muttering under your breath and telling your stupid brain to shut up, you fumbled in your desk drawer for another hair-tie. Of course, you could just get it cut, but it wasn’t that easy.

Most people that claim they have long hair usually mean it’s down past their shoulders, maybe to the middle of their back. But when you said it, you meant it. Your hair was _long_.

Like, really long.

We’re talking a real-life Rapunzel, here.

_(Hermione Grainger.)_

Shut up.

Thick curly hair, all the way down to your butt. Beautifully shaped, long curls spiraling down your back like a TRESsemme commercial. Spilling over your shoulders when you bent down, the sunlight catching in its waved when the wind blew. Silky and luxurious, inviting touch.

Well, that’s what it was supposed to look like.

Right now, it looked like you stuck your finger in a light socket. The heat and humidity sure weren’t helping, but the _real_ problem was the fact that you hadn’t seen the inside of a salon in over a year.

You were proud of your hair, and yes…possibly a little (a lot) vain about it. But most of all, it represented the special connection you had with your grandmother.

She’d been a cosmetologist for fifty years. That’s a very long time to be doing anything if you didn’t love it, but your grandmother did. She loved cutting hair, and she was very proud of what she did. Her own hair hung down to the small of her back, the same gentle curls as yours now silvered with age.

Nobody cut your hair but her. Nobody _touched_ your hair but her. She was the one who had helped you to grow it out strong, who showed you how to care for it and style it. It was something special that only the two of you shared—your own special bond.

Which was why the stroke had been so devastating to your both. She was no longer able to do the job she loved so much. She couldn’t even pick up a pair of scissors.

You’d been right with her every step of the way during her recovery, and she was doing much better now. Still, you noticed the looks she would give you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. The sadness in her eyes, seeing the state of your beautiful locks and what had become of them.

You didn’t want her to feel guilty, so when she recommended a few fellow hairdressers, you listened. One of them she’d known for years, and the woman still came to cut your grandmother’s hair. You’d taken their numbers down and promised you’d get it done soon, but that had been months ago.

It was silly.

It was stupid.

It was overwhelming.

You felt so guilty, but you nearly had a panic attack every time you even thought about setting foot in a salon. You didn’t know what you were going to do.

_Maybe you should just cut it yourself._

Shut up, SHUT UP!

“Doll? You okay?”

Oh my god, did you just say that out loud?

You knew that voice. It was Bucky Barnes, aka the resident stud of the Avenger’s Compound. He was always nice to you, he always had a smile for you, but you’d never really had much cause to interact with him.

And now he had caught you talking to yourself like a crazy person.

Your face flushed bright red, and you slowly raised your head. Your jaw dropped. There he was, standing in front of your desk with a concerned look in his baby blues, but that’s not what caught your attention.

It was his hair.

Ever since he’d come to the Tower, Bucky’s hair was long. Well, long-ish. Down to his shoulders, maybe combed back if he was feeling adventurous, but definitely long. For a guy.

And it looked good on him, it really did. This, though…this.

_As if he couldn’t get any hotter._

That time you didn’t tell your inner voice to shut up. It was right, after all.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked again, and you realized you were just standing there, staring at him.

“You…you cut your hair,” you said dumbly.

_Way to state the obvious._

Bucky blushed self-consciously. “Yeah, I figured it was about time to let go of all that baggage. It wasn’t easy, but I grit my teeth and got the job done. Whatdya think?”

_Bucky Barnes isn’t afraid. He was able to let go of the baggage._

You burst into tears.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?” He tugged on the top nervously.

You sat down heavily in your chair. “It’s not your hair, Bucky, it’s…it’s me,” you hiccupped, wiping your eyes. You were so pathetic.

Bucky came around your desk and crouched down by you, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You were silent for a little bit. Bucky just looked at you, his face open and honest. Not judging. He felt like he was a person you could talk to.

“I really like your hair Bucky, it looks good. Like, really, really good. It’s just…god this is stupid!”

“I bet it’s not.”

You looked at him. Sighed. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but I have rather long hair.”

“I’m aware of the fact, yes.”

So you told him. All your stupid insecurities and worry and guilt over cutting your hair, the special bond you and your grandmother shared, and your awe that he had the courage to do what you couldn’t.

Through it all, Bucky just sat and listened quietly. After, he sat chewing his lip thoughtfully. You thought he wasn’t going to say anything, and then he spoke.

“I don’t think that’s a stupid thing to be afraid of at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He straightened and looked at you seriously. “People are afraid of all sorts of crazy stuff, especially if there’s meaning attached to it. It may seem stupid to some people, but to you, it’s the scariest thing in the world.”

He chuckled. “I was terrified of coffee shops for the longest time.”

“C-Coffee shops?”

“Yeah. Sam teased me endlessly over it. I couldn’t figure out why until I realized the espresso machine made the same exact sound as the cryo chamber when it started up. It’s better now, but I still get shaky in coffee shops sometimes.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure what to say to that.

“H-How did you get over it? The fear…”

Bucky smiled faintly. “Steve helped me. We went to one just down the block from here. He talked me through it, was right there with me the whole time, and eventually…it got better. Which is good, because I happen to love coffee.”

You nodded, thinking. Bucky’s smile widened a little. He took your hand in both of his, and you were surprised how gentle he was. You smiled hesitantly back.

“I have an idea. Your grandmother gave you a couple of recommendations, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about you make an appointment, and I go with you. We’ll take it nice and slow, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll even hold your hand if you want. The hairdresser’s gonna be sick of me by the time we’re though, I promise.”

You laughed, imagining it. Then you smiled.

“I’d like that, Bucky, thank you.”

He blushed shyly. “And maybe, afterwards…you could help me get some coffee.”

***

**One Week Later**

The hairdresser spun you around, and you gasped. Your hair—it was perfect! It looked just like it used to when your grandmother had cut it. You smiled, feeling about a hundred pounds lighter.

_Told you so._

You were positively floating after Bucky’s reaction. He was waiting out in the reception area while the stylist finished. True to his word, he hadn’t left your side the whole time. It had been hard at first, but the longer you sat there in the chair and the more you talked with your new hairdresser, the more relaxed you became. Finally, you allowed the stylist to shoo him out into the waiting area for the final reveal.

Bucky’s jaw had dropped.

“You…you’re beautiful.”

It was so incredibly heartfelt and sincere that you all but melted into a little puddle on the floor. Bucky held the door for you as you stepped out onto the street, and you couldn’t help but smile seeing the flush in his cheeks or the way he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from you.

“Where to now, beautiful?” he asked.

You smiled up at him. “How about that coffee?”

Your heart fluttered as he smiled and shyly reached out to take your hand. Bucky held it firmly and rubbed his thumb across your knuckles as you walked hand in hand, your long hair swinging behind you.


	6. Playing Cupid (Angst, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is tired of you and Bucky mutually pining for one another, and decides to take matters into his own hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fluff, Angst, and a Practical Joke
> 
> A/N: This one-shot was a Tumblr request.
> 
> Prompt: “Bucky x reader, and ever since she met Bucky she's had a crush on him. Now that they're all working together and the feelings are stronger. Sam wants to play cupid and told Friday to tell the reader that Bucky was back from their mission injured, but really he barely has a scratch and she lost her mind over it only to find him getting patched up just fine. She was so worried about him that she's was like "fuck it" and kissed him. And then Sam got an earful for almost giving her a heart attack. Fluffy ending, you know.”

The little smiles.

The touches. Longing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Giggling together over their own private jokes. Lingering on the couch together, watching (or not watching) a movie, their legs pressed together and their arms folded across their chests, faces flushed with sexual tension that neither would admit.

The little gestures. Saving a spot for one another on the couch. Training sessions that were enough to leave Sam hot and bothered, and he was just a bystander. Bucky making breakfast for her when she’d pulled a long mission with Nat. Y/N massaging the kinks out of Bucky’s back when his arm started hurting him. Bucky wouldn’t let anyone else touch him that way…except for her.

Two idiots in love.

It was driving Sam up the fucking wall.

They kept insisting they were just friends. Sam had cornered them both, and while they’d admitted feelings for each other person, they just couldn’t believe the other would feel similarly. Sam wanted to scream.

He was a man that liked things just so. He liked having things out in the open—bare-faced honesty. And whatever was going on between Bucky and Y/N was enough to make him lose his mind.

_Am I honestly the only one that sees it?_

“Leave it alone, Sam, they’ll come to it on their own,” Steve had told him.

“And what—we’re just supposed to sit here and suffer through the angst of those two idiots mutually pining for each other? Someone should do something. Lock ‘em in a room, or—”

Nat swatted him on the head with her magazine. “Don’t meddle, Sam. It never ends well.”

Y/N was a new member of the team, and a solid addition at that. She’d quickly wormed her way into each of their hearts, none more so than Bucky. Sam honestly wasn’t sure what she saw in the grumpy super soldier, but he knew they were both head over heels for each other.

So, he began to plan.

Sam had waited until a simple mission came up. One that didn’t require the entire crew.

“Y/N isn’t coming?” Bucky tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“It’s a simple mission, Buck, in and out.” Steve said. “We don’t need to bring everyone.”

If it were possible for a super-soldier to pout, Bucky was doing that very thing. Y/N had walked into the training room, and her eyebrows raised, seeing them all getting suited up.

Sam noticed that Bucky quickly lost his pout, adopting his usual glowering expression.

“Something come up?” she asked, looking around the group.

“Nothing major, just a quick extraction,” Clint said. “Easy-peasy.”

Y/N nodded. “Well, be careful out there.”

Sam noticed that while her eyes swept the group, they lingered on Bucky the longest. Bucky met her gaze, and the two stared at each other for an interminable moment. Nobody said a word, but they all felt it.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Twelve hours later, his plan had started coming together beautifully. Bucky had been injured—minorly—on the mission. Barely a scratch. A bullet had creased his arm, and Sam and Steve had finally convinced him to get patched up in medical…which was a feat in itself.

Sam waited until they were both seated in the Quinjet, and then he snuck back into the cargo area under the pretense of checking the EXO-7 FALCON gear.

“FRIDAY,” he whispered.

_“Yes, Airman Wilson?”_

Sam hissed. “Keep your voice down!”

_“I apologize, Airman Wilson, I was not aware we had embarked upon a clandestine operation.”_

Sam rolled his eyes at the AI’s sass. “Just listen FRIDAY, I need your help. You know Sergeant Barnes and Agent Y/L/N?”

_“I am aware of their existence, yes.”_

“Okay, well, I need your help with something. A little...prank.”

_“A prank, sir?”_

Sam explained the plan.

The AI balked. _“I’m afraid I don’t feel entirely comfortable with this charade, sir. There is an eighty-seven percent that Agent Y/L/N will be extremely distraught upon hearing—”_

“FRIDAY, it’s for a good cause.” Sam hissed. “C’mon, you’re the only one that can help these two idiots admit their feelings. It needs to be believable, and she won’t trust it coming from anyone else but you.”

A pause. _“Well, I suppose, if their happiness is at stake—”_

“It is. As well as my sanity.”

_“All right, then.”_

“Thank—”

_“While I don’t agree with your methods, I do acknowledge that ‘white lies’ and misdirection have been historically proven to—”_

“FRIDAY, are you helping me, or not?” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

_“Yes. I am.”_

Sam sighed in relief, turning towards the cockpit door. He paused.

“Just…FRIDAY?”

_“Yes, sir?”_

“Make it sound good.”

***

You sat in your apartment in the Compound, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. All you could think about was Bucky.

Wondering if he was safe. If he was okay. Wondering how the mission was going. Wondering when he was going to get back.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes, and you had it bad. To be honest, you had been in love with him for a long time. Ever since the day he smiled at you, that first day of your SHIELD recruit training. You’d been paired off with him at the range, and by the end of the day you were both laughing and joking like old friends.

Bucky was such an intolerable grump most of the time but around you, he seemed like a different person. The way he would smile when you walked into the room, it was like seeing the sun come up, making everything a little brighter and more colorful. And he was such a sweetheart, always doing little things for you—pulling your chair out, saving you a spot next to him on the couch, cuddling with you when you had a particularly bad day.

Yes, you loved him, but Bucky was in love with someone else.

You’d heard him talking about it with Sam a few weeks ago. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, you just heard raised voices in the training room and had paused a few moments before entering.

“You’re in love with her, Buck, I _know_ you are, so just admit it.” That was Sam, and he sounded irritated.

“And what if I am?!” Bucky hissed. “It’s not like she sees _me_ that way. She’s so beautiful, and-and kind, and thoughtful, and—god! The way she looks in those workout shorts of hers, I just want to—”

“Don’t make me throw up in my mouth, man.”

“But she’s…well, _her_ , and I’m…I’m _me_. A girl like her doesn’t end up with someone like me. It’s never gonna happen, she just doesn’t see me that way. I love her. It’s _killing_ me, but we’re—"

You ducked around the corner, feeling like your heart was breaking. Bucky was in love with another woman.

Slowly, you trudged back to your room. You felt crushed. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you had a chance in hell with a man like Bucky. Someone like him usually ended up with six feet of perfection—perfect hair, a perfect body, legs that won’t quit and the personality to match.

 _Not_ someone like you. 

You wondered who the lucky girl was, and if she knew it yet. Apparently not, judging by their conversation. For the rest of the afternoon you laid in bed, flipping through the mental rolodex eligible ladies in the Tower, torturing yourself with thoughts of Bucky being with any one of them.

You rolled over and looked at the clock. The team should be back any time now. It was a little strange, but they hadn’t called ahead like they usually did. Uneasiness began to pool in your stomach, and you tugged on your jeans, wanting to be ready in case Sharon had some mission data she wanted you to parse. You were just pulling on your shirt when FRIDAY paged you.

_“Agent Y/L/N?”_

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

_“You requested to know when the Team arrived.”_

You perked up. “How far out are they?”

_“They’ve already landed, ma’am. I apologize for not informing you sooner, but their arrival was a bit chaotic.”_

“Chaos? What happened, is anyone hurt?”

_“Sergeant Barnes, ma’am. He was brought to the medical ward twenty minutes ago, I’m afraid he’s gravely wounded.”_

You choked. “H-How bad?”

_“Sergeant Barnes sustained three gunshot wounds to the chest, his vitals are falling and the medical team is currently attempting resuscitation. His odds of survival are—”_

You didn’t even hear the last part. You were already out the door, your mind whirring in panic as it slammed shut behind you.

 _“Oh, dear,”_ the AI said to the empty room.

Your heart was in your throat as you raced down the hallway, mashing the button on the elevator that would take you to the medical wing. It seemed like the elevator had never moved so slowly. The entire time, FRIDAY’s voice kept replaying in your mind, skipping crazily like a broken record.

Three gunshot wounds.

Attempting resuscitation.

Vitals falling.

Bucky was hurt—badly. He was dying. You loved him, and maybe friends was all you would ever be, but he couldn’t die—he just _couldn’t_. You couldn’t lose him. If you did, you’d be losing a piece of yourself as well.

The elevator doors dinged open, and you burst through the med center doors. You skidded around the corner, breathlessly pressing up to the window of the surgical suite.

It was empty.

Were you already too late?

Breath coming in great heaving gasps, you looked around. The room was spotless. The lights were still dimmed, and it didn’t look like anyone had been there all day. You choked back a sob and raised a shaking hand to your face.

Where was he?

Frantically, you started searching rooms. They were all empty, except for the one at the end. The door was open, and dim light filtered out into the hallway. You looked in.

Bucky was sitting there on the exam table, a small cut at his hairline and white bandage wrapped around his right bicep.

Not dead.

Not dying.

Not even badly hurt.

Bucky’s head came up and he smiled crookedly when he saw you, a smile that quickly vanished when he saw your face.

“Y/N?” He jumped to his feet, taking you by the arms. “Doll, you’re as white as a sheet. Here—sit down, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

He was looking at you with concern, but you didn’t notice. Your head was spinning. It seemed like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Bucky tried to get you to sit in the chair, but you resisted, lightly fingering the cut on his head and the bandage on his arm with a shaking hand.

“You’re…you’re okay.”

Bucky frowned. “Of course I am, sweetheart, why wouldn’t I be?”

Bucky grunted in surprise as you launched yourself into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m fine, it’s just a graze—”

His words were cut off as your lips met his in a frantic, desperate kiss. You thought you’d lost him. Suddenly, all your worries about who loved whom seemed small and insignificant, and the only thing that mattered was that Bucky was _alive_ , right here, right now, his lips against yours and his hands reaching around your waist to pull you close.

You both broke away, panting.

“Wow,” he breathed. His lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“I-I thought…I thought I lost you, Bucky,” you said dazedly.

Tears were starting to fall, but you didn’t care. Bucky hastily wiped at your tears in concern and confusion.

“Why would you think—”

“I love you, Bucky.”

His eyes went wide. You cradled his face in your hands. All your fears and insecurities about your feelings for him had vanished. Bucky might not love you back, but you weren’t going to go one more second without telling him how you felt.

“I love you, Bucky. I know that you’re in love with someone else, but I don’t care. I thought you were dying, and I can’t—”

Bucky’s lips smashed into yours, cutting you off mid-sentence. He let out something halfway between a moan and a sob, cradling the back of your head as his lips parted beneath yours. It was a deeply passionate kiss, ugly and raw and emotional.

“I love _you_ , Y/N,” he panted between kisses. “ _You_. No one else. I always have.”

Your legs hit the back of the exam table and Bucky’s body pressed against yours. Your head was spinning with his confession, and you grabbed his tactical belt, pulling him even closer. You were so shocked, so relieved, it seemed like you couldn’t get close enough to him.

Bucky murmured your name as his lips worked their way across your jaw, his metal hand tangling in your hair and cradling your head. He held you and released a shuddering breath. You buried your nose in the crook of his neck and breathed him in.

Finally, he pulled back slightly and wiped the residual tears from your cheeks. The sweetest, softest smile, just for you, but it fell slightly as he remembered why you had been crying in the first place.

“Y/N, why did you think I was dying? Who told you that?”

His eyes were still warm with affection, but there was a darker hint of anger there, knowing that someone had lied to you.

“FRIDAY said that you…she said that you were shot…three times. That—that they were trying to resuscitate you. I…Bucky, I thought I was going to lose you.”

Bucky’s face fell, realizing what you must have gone through. His jaw clenched.

“FRIDAY?”

_“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”_

“Why did you lie to Y/N?”

A pause.

_“I was instructed by Airman Wilson to give Agent Y/L/N false information. I was against the charade, but he insisted, saying your happiness was at stake.”_

“What are you talking about?”

_“Airman Wilson suggested that if Agent Y/L/N were under the impression that your life was in jeopardy, she would be tricked into revealing her feelings for you, and you, Sergeant Barnes, would reciprocate.”_

Bucky clenched his fist and the metal plates in his arm whirred.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

You were blushing in embarrassment, first at causing a scene and secondly at being duped by such a juvenile prank. Bucky caught your look, and smiled reassuringly.

“Hey—there’s no way you could’ve know that little punk had told FRIDAY to lie to you.” He brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. “I’m really sorry you had a scare like that, but I’m glad we finally got everything out in the open. I don’t want to waste one more second without you.”

His lips lightly brushed yours, and you smiled into them.

“Well thank god! It’s about time you two idiots got together!”

“Sam!” Bucky growled.

Sam was leaning against the door with a satisfied smirk on his face—a smirk which disappeared when he saw the look on yours. He backed into the hall, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Y/N, listen—I can explain—”

WHAM!

You sucker-punched him, right across the jaw.

“What the hell!” Sam cried, rubbing his jaw.

“That’s for scaring the shit out of me and making me think Bucky was dying! I don’t care how good your intentions were, Sam, it was mean, it was cruel, and it—”

“Woah, woah—what?! FRIDAY, what did you tell her?”

The AI told him, and Sam groaned.

_“I told you, sir, I am unexperienced with pranks and practical jokes, and you DID say to make it sound good.”_

“I know, I know.” Sam rubbed at his jaw again. “Y/N, Bucky, I’m sorry. I was just trying to give you guys a little push. I never meant it to go this far.”

You scowled, but Bucky laughed. Sam looked so genuinely apologetic, and the slight discoloration on his jaw did a lot to improve your mood. Eventually you cracked and snorted out a laugh. Even Sam smiled, relieved neither of you were angry anymore.

Bucky took your hand and started to lead you out of the exam room.

“Next time you wanna play cupid, do your own dirty work,” Bucky said, clapping a hand on Sam’s back as he walked by. “And remember, my girl’s got a mean right hook.”

“Yeah, well at least now I can enjoy movie night without longing sighs from you two idiots!” Sam hollered after you.

You giggled, and Bucky pulled his arm around you. Fingers intertwined and hip to hip, you walked back upstairs. Bucky paused outside the door to his room. Even now, he was a little nervous, biting his lip and somehow managing to look up through his long eyelashes at you, even though he was taller than you.

Standing on your toes, you fisted your hands in his shirt and kissing him lightly.

“So, how about it, soldier? You gonna invite me in, or are we gonna stand out here all night?”

Buck’s eyes flashed, and he grinned.

“Maybe I owe Sam a thank you after all,” he said, opening the door and pulling you close. “Get in here, doll…we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”


	7. The Warrior Returns (Smut, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxer!Bucky x Reader
> 
> Bucky won his match, and now he gets his prize--you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Smut, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This drabble is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club HBC Kinktober 2020 Day Eleven - Hair Pulling.

Bucky danced into the locker room, flying high. The crowd was still roaring, which told you all you needed to know.

He’d won the fight.

You’d been dating Bucky Barnes for six months, but you’d only seen him box once. He had won that fight, but it had cost him—a broken nose, concussion, several broken ribs, and an eye that was so swollen shut it was useless for nearly a week. The ringside doc patched him up, and life went on…for Bucky, at least.

You never could get the image out of your head of him stumbling into the locker room, battered and bruised, a crookedly triumphant smile on his face. His sport was barbarous to be sure, but he was good at it. He had told you time and time again that he was fine. That he would win. But the lingering, nagging dark place in your brain taunted you with images of Bucky being carried out on a stretcher, bloodied and broken.

Bucky understood your fear, he really did. He understood why you couldn’t watch him fight. He knew his best gal was waiting for him, right beyond the curtain. Waiting for her fighter to come home.

“Hey doll!” Bucky crowed, his arms spread wide. “Back from battle, and not a scratch on me.”

You sighed in relief as he took you in his arms. The testosterone was flowing, and Bucky’s usual gentle nature was tempered with a carnal desire.

“Help me get these wraps off doll, so I can get my hands on you properly.”

He smiled at you as you helped him out of his gloves and the protective wrappings, cutting the bandages loose. Bucky sighed and flexed his hands. Blue eyes peaked up from under sinful lashes, and he licked his lips.

You loved it. You loved the machismo, the unbridled desire that sprang from the matches. You just wish it didn’t come at such high a cost.

“Come here.”

Bucky’s mouth pressed hard against yours, lips parting as his tongue licked into your mouth. His strong hands were on you, everywhere at once—possessive and needy, drawing you close as his thigh slid between your legs.

“Need you,” he panted. “I want you…god, I want so you bad.”

His fingers threaded up into your hair, and he pulled. Hard.

You gasped, your thighs clenching against his.

“You like that, baby?” He grinned, seeing your eyes blacken with desire. “You like it when I pull your hair?”

Bucky flipped you around, grinding his arousal against your rear. He tugged on your hair again, tilting your head back so he could lavish attention up on your exposed throat. He licked over your pulse point, nipping and sucking on the tender skin as he bucked his hips against yours.

You moaned his name. Bucky pulled your hair tighter, sealing his lips against yours as his fingers darted up beneath your skirt. He whimpered when he realized you weren’t wearing any panties.

“God, doll…you’re killin’ me here.”

Bucky slipped a finger inside, groaning at the wetness there. His other hand remained fisted in your hair, holding you tight against his shoulder so he could kiss you while his fingers explored your core. You moaned as he slipped another finger in, grazing his thumb against your clit. Soft whimpers and gasps as he slowly reduced you to quivering jelly.

“Bucky,” you panted. “Bucky, I want you…I need to feel you.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. Pulling down the waist of his boxer shorts, he pulled himself out, rubbing up and down the length of your core as he bent you over the prep table. With one solid thrust he was in, moaning obscenely as you clenched down on him.

“Goddamn, babe…you feel so good. So tight for me.”

Bucky never let go of your hair as he pushed against you, slowly building momentum as the heat coiled in your belly. Soon, it became too much.

“Bucky…Bucky, I’m—”

“Shhh...let it go baby, I want to feel you. Come for me.”

Bucky pulled your head back, kissing you hard as you came around him. He gasped, crying out as you clenched down. Burying his head in your shoulder he came, gasping for breath as he filled you.

You were floating. Dazed by your own release, your legs gave out. Bucky caught you, gently turning you around to he could hold you. His chest heaved against yours and his heart was pounding as he rested his head on your shoulder.

Several deep breaths later he raised his head, cupping your face in his battered hands. Tenderly, he kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose and your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So, so much.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you said, as you nuzzled against him.

Your brave, brave warrior. You both knew the score, what was risked each time he stepped into the ring. But right here, right now, you felt nothing but each other. You both felt alive.

And that was enough.


	8. Burya (Whump, Smut, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: буря - Burya. Russian for storm. Bucky and you are caught out in a storm in the Siberian Urals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Smut, Fluff, Angst, Hypothermia injuries.
> 
> A/N: This is a one-shot for Whumptober, the prompts are No. 21 Hypothermia and No. 27 Extreme Weather.

In hindsight, there really wasn’t anyone you’d rather be stuck with in a blizzard than Bucky Barnes. Yes, the man was intolerable asshole, but he was also built like a furnace. That, and he also held the key to your heart, a fact that you’d had to wait until you were nearly dying to realize.

***

**Twenty-Four Hours Earlier – Ural Mountain Range, Siberia**

The wind howled.

The storm had come out of nowhere, surprising you both. You’d both spent some time in the area and were familiar with it’s fickle nature, but still—the forecast _had_ been clear.

All either of you were wearing was your stealth suits, weaponized to the hilt but very little in the way of survival gear.

“The storm’s only going to worse, doll, we need to find some shelter,” Bucky shouted above the storm.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Doll. I’m not one of your blushing fangirls who swoon every time you bat those baby blues.”

Irritated, you pulled up the GPS on the heads-up display mounted on your forearm. You were shivering, violently, but you’d be damned if you’d let Bucky Barnes see you that vulnerable.

You absolutely hated him.

Bold and crass, Bucky Barnes ran through the women, seemingly making up for the time lost during his tenure with Hydra. Yet you were the one girl he never saw fit to pursue. It irritated you at first, and then it had offended you. Now, you couldn’t imagine why you had ever given him a second glance.

Womanizing assholes just weren’t your type.

Bucky was distant and condescending around you. Once, you’d found him attractive…okay, you still thought he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. You cared about him deeply, and still harbored a huge crush on him. Still, he hadn’t seen fit to give you the time of day, always hip deep in women.

Both of you butted heads constantly, to the point where Steve refused to pair you on missions. Steve, however, was laid up after an op had gone south, and Sam had taken over in his stead—which lead you to your current situation.

You’d been assigned this mission, but Bucky had volunteered…a detail that had annoyed you to no end. And now, with it completed, all you wanted was to return home to the comfort of your bed and a Bucky-free space.

But first, you had to tackle the problem at hand.

“There’s a safehouse about twelve klicks east,” you said.

“Twelve?” Bucky eyed you dubiously.

You clenched your jaw, and headed off eastward without another word. You didn’t even look back to see if he was following you.

***

Bucky followed her through the blinding snow. By his estimation they’d gone about ten kilometers, and the safehouse should be within view soon.

About damn time.

Y/N was struggling, he knew it. The girl was about as stubborn as they came, and that was one of the things he liked about her. Okay, one of the things he loved about her.

Bucky had it bad. He’d always been a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” type, but that changed the moment he met Y/N. He’d fallen head over heels for her, struck right between the eyes with Cupid’s arrow.

Y/N was amazing. She was fearless. She was beautiful and kind and funny, but there was just one problem…she hated his guts.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d done to piss her off so badly. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, it always struck a nerve with her. He saw how she interacted with the rest of the team, so he knew it was just him that she apparently had a problem with. But Bucky was tenacious, and so he’d volunteered for this op in the hopes that they could hash out their differences.

How wrong he’d been.

Bucky watched her as she trudged through the knee-deep snow. The temperature had to be in the negatives, and they were nearing white-out conditions. Bucky couldn’t feel a thing, but he knew she had to be freezing. She stared blankly at the trail in front of them, wordlessly putting one foot in front of the other mechanically. Bucky admired here grit, but he’d noticed she had stopped shivering a long time ago, and that worried him.

He squinted his eyes, catching a glimpse of a low building through the trees.

“The safehouse’s up ahead, I see it.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, she just kept walking. She was starting to stumble now, and Bucky realized she’d reached the critical limits of hypothermia. Bucky grabbed her arm and shrugged it over his shoulders. The fact that she didn’t pull away was a testament to how far gone she was.

Finally, they’d reached the long, low cabin. It wasn’t much, just and off-season hunter’s cabin, but it was shelter. Bucky kicked open the door and carefully lowered Y/N to the ground as he fumbled for a light.

His head smacked into a low-hanging oil lamp, and he cursed. He reached into his pocket for his trusty Zippo, and the lamp flared to life.

Y/N looked awful. She was deathly pale, and her lips were tinged blue. With her eyes closed, she almost looked dead.

“Y/N!” Bucky fell to his knees beside her. “Y/N, wake up!”

Nothing. He smacked her cheek, tentatively at first, and then harder, his palm raising color to her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered in response, and so did his heart. He had to be quick—she was fading fast.

Fire. Warmth. That was what he needed.

Bucky scooted over to the fireplace, thanking every god available that there was dry wood in the rack. He stacked several logs in the hearth, interspersing them with kindling, and pretty soon he had a roaring fire.

Bucky stripped off his jacket, feeling the warmth of the fire heat the tiny cabin. Y/N didn’t even move. Cursing, he tore open the throat of her stealth suit. Her pulse was weak, and she was barely breathing.

Bucky swallowed every ounce of hesitation and embarrassment, and started stripping off both their clothes. They might have their differences, but her life was on the line now, and Bucky would be damned if he was going to let her die.

Y/N started to rouse as he peeled off her tee shirt, leaving her only in her underwear. Bucky was clad only in his boxer briefs, but all sense of decency had dropped along with the temperature. 

Bucky gasped as he pressed her cold body against his.

“Jesus, you’re freezing.”

Y/N squirmed feebly as he tugged a few of the blankets and furs over them, having already spread one on the floor for them to lay on.

“What’ru doin’?” she slurred.

Even despite the danger, she still sounded irate. Bucky sighed, his exasperation overshadowing the fear he felt.

“Look—you’re hypothermic. I’ve got to get you warmed up fast, or you’re gonna be in trouble. And out here, trouble means death. I know I’m not your first choice, but I’m not gonna let you—”

“So, wh-what you’re saying’s we’ve gotta spoon ‘r die? This’a…trick ‘t get inta my pants?”

Bucky’s face flushed. She was delirious.

“Just—” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come here.”

Bucky held her close, terrified at how cold she felt. He pulled her tightly into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her arms. Y/N finally started shivering, instinctively burrowing her face into his chest. It was almost as if she couldn’t get close enough to his warmth.

Bucky blushed as he felt her breasts graze his chest, her muscles long and lean beneath his hands. She was just as beautiful as he’d imagined, both inside and out.

As Y/N curled closer into him and she drifted farther out of danger, Bucky’s heart began to beat wildly. She was touching _him_ —her head was lying against _his_ chest, her limbs tangled with his. She’d stopped shivering again, but Bucky could tell it was because her body temperature had finally begun to return to normal. Sighing gratefully, he tenderly kissed her temple and rested his chin on her head. She’d probably be pissed at him, but Bucky didn’t care.

He was too relived, and he loved her too much to care.

“Thank you.”

It was whispered so quietly he almost didn’t catch it, even with his enhanced hearing. Bucky pulled away from Y/N slightly, and saw her staring up at him. Her eyes were dull and a little disoriented, but they were _there_. Enough for this conversation, at least.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky’s lips twitched into a crooked smile, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were the asshole, but I think I was.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You weren’t, but I get it. It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not. I was wrong about you. I see you now, and I was wrong.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m not some swooning dame, okay?” Bucky bit back a grin, his spirit lightening just hearing her fire return. “I just…I was wrong about you, and I want you to know that I’m sorry. That’s all.”

Bucky nodded. They didn’t say anything else—they didn’t need to. Bucky wrapped his arms around her as she curled into his embrace, a genuine smile flitting across his lips—the first in years.

_Two stubborn assholes, freezing their rears off in Siberia._

Sounded about right to him.

***

You woke to a crick in your neck and something hard pressed against your ass.

It took you a couple of blinks to recognize the cabin, dim morning light filtering through dingy windows. You cold tell how cold it was by the chill that bit the tip of your nose and the fog your breath made.

The rest of you, however, was toasty warm. Two strong arms encircled you, as well as several furs and blankets. A slight turn of the head told you who the arms—and the morning wood—belonged to.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Your face immediately flushed, the events of the previous night returning to memory. Bucky cared about you. You’d seen it last night, and it had thrown your every thought about him right out the proverbial window.

Yesterday you’d seen a different man, and to be honest, that man had you tied up in knots. A heat wholly independent of the fire in the hearth began to build, and you pressed up against the stiffness against your rear.

Bucky groaned in his sleep, his hands tightening around your hips. He rutted up against you, his breath hot in your ear. You carefully turned. Bucky’s lips were inches from yours, and he instinctively pulled you close as your mouth found his.

Bucky’s eyes flew open and he gasped against your lips. You could see the desire there, the dark want in his eyes, but he grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You smiled as you rolled on top of him. “I’m sure about how I feel, Bucky, I just needed to be sure of you.”

His eyes flashed, and you could feel his heart thudding heavily against your chest.

“I want this, Bucky. I want you. I always have.”

That was it for him.

Bucky groaned and pulled you close, his tongue parting your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands explored your body. And you let him.

Bucky’s hands were liquid fire, and when they touched between your legs you gasped. He exhaled sharply at your wetness, slipping two fingers inside as you moaned.

Not to be outdone, you took him in hand, relishing the sinful noises he was making as you worked him. Your private pleasures reached a fever pitch, and soon you were guiding Bucky on top, groaning obscenely as he lowered himself into you.

The man was an Adonis. He was a god. In that moment, Bucky owned all of you, thrusting deeply as your mutual pleasure increased.

And little did he know, he was holding your heart as well.

The fire burned quickly out of control and you came with a breathy cry, whimpering his name as you clenched around him. Bucky pounded into you, his hands clenching your shoulders painfully as he released inside, coating you thoroughly.

Bucky lowered his head to your shoulder, his breath coming in shuddering gasps.

“Why did you hate me?”

He asked the question, and it caught you off guard. You didn’t hate him, not really. You didn’t then, and you certainly didn’t now.

“I…I just…I didn’t want to be another notch on your belt. I wanted it to mean something.”

Bucky huffed.

“All this time…you cared for me?”

You nodded. “I cared for you so much it was killing me to see you with those other girls. It was…just easier to see you as a womanizing asshole and someone I needed to avoid than someone who didn’t want me. That broke my heart.”

“I’ve always wanted you, Y//N. Since the day I first saw you.”

You smiled at him, and Bucky returned it. It was as if the sun had come out again. Bucky clenched his jaw, looking up at you tentatively.

“I…I want to date you, Y/N. Properly. I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.” He cleared his throat, his blue-grey eyes liquid and vulnerable.

“I…I think I love you, Y/N. I want a chance with you, and I’m willing to wait as long as it takes.”

Well, there you go. What more could you ask for?

Nothing.

You wrapped your arms around him, settling your body against his once again. Where it felt safe…where it felt at home.

“How long until the EXFIL Team arrives?” you asked.

Bucky checked his watch. “About two more hours.”

“Well,” you said. “We can either spend that time nervously preparing, or we can spend it in a much more…fruitful endeavor.”

Bucky rolled on top of you, his metal fingers gently brushing your hair back. He nuzzled into your neck, and you smiled.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“I…I think I love you too.”

Hands around your waist and lips against yours. Stopping in shock, eyes opening wide.

“You—”

“I care for you, Bucky,” he said. “….and if that’s what you want, I’m willing to give it a try.”

Bucky huffed, holding you close, nuzzling your cheek. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.”


	9. Chaos (sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader) (Smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your BDSM relationship with Bucky is about more than just sex--it’s a way to cope when life starts to overwhelm you both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Smut, Bondage, Oral sex (Male receiving), Healthy Sub/Dom Relationship, Orgasm Denial, Fluff

Bucky leaned back against the pillows, the ropes tugging against his wrists. He could have easily broken them, but he didn’t want to. Looped around the bedframe, the rope slid against the metal of his left wrist but bit into the skin of his right, making his body quiver in anticipation. It was holding him down, restraining him, and he liked it. He liked that it hurt just a little bit.

His legs were still free, but she’d wrapped a blindfold around his eyes, taking away his sight. Taking away his control. It was okay though, he knew he’d get to see her soon, if he behaved himself.

The door opened. He heard her enter, and his heart began to pound.

It had all started out simple enough—a way for Bucky to safely relinquish his death-grip on control.

He had always struggled with the need to have control in his life, ever since Hydra. The need to choose his own fate. To be the master of his own destiny. Or, something simpler like choosing what to eat for dinner or what to watch on tv.

For a man who came from a life without control, suddenly being thrust into the twenty-first century was overwhelming. So many decisions to be made. Bucky became obsessed, falling into a panic in any situation where he felt as if he weren’t in total control. It made him a liability on missions and almost unbearable to live with.

Then it got worse.

He began to stress over the decisions he _was_ making—whether or not they were the right ones. Who they would affect. Bucky panicked when he felt like he had no control, and he panicked over having too much control. It got to the point where he could barely function.

He couldn’t get out of bed. He couldn’t eat. Therapists didn’t help, even when he could muster up the courage to go to them. Bucky was fading away to nothing, hobbled by his fear.

Then he met her.

They’d met at a group therapy session, of all places, and Bucky thanked his lucky stars that he’d decided to go that day. If he hadn’t, he never would have met her, and who knows where he would be now.

Bucky sucked in a breath as he heard her move towards the bed. He bit his lip as he felt rope coil around his ankles, binding him loosely to the bed. He could still move, but just the fact that it was there made his stomach do flips.

They’d dated for a while, bonding over their individual traumas and their shared fears. Bucky had fallen head over heels for her, and she for him. No one else understood their internal struggles but them.

It had been Bucky who had suggested it—using alternating the alternating roles of a sub/dom relationship to help work through their trauma, and to ease the tension when they felt themselves start to give into their fears.

A way to maintain the delicate balance between chaos and control.

Bucky felt her breath, warm against his skin, and his cock twitched in anticipation. She hadn’t even touched him yet, and he could feel the pre-cum dripping onto his stomach. He was a mess.

And god, did he love her.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

It was murmured low and softly into the delicate shell of his ear. Her tongue flicked against his skin, and he whimpered.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The ropes creaked ominously as he tugged against him, feeling the heat from her body radiating against his. So close, but not touching…yet. Bucky moaned, trying to shift against her. He growled in frustration when she danced out of the way.

“What do you want, baby boy? Use your words—you know I like to hear you.”

“T-Touch me, please…I want you to touch me.”

He was rewarded with her tongue, licking a long stripe from his navel to the hollow of his throat. Bucky gasped and shuddered.

“More…please, more…”

Her tongue glided over his nipple, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Then the other, before her lips made their way up his chest, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses. He groaned. She lavished attention on his exposed throat, alternating between soft kisses and sharp little bites. His pulse was wild beneath her lips—it was driving him crazy, and they both knew it.

His chest was heaving, and he shivered violently as her nipples grazed his chest. He hadn’t realized she was already naked, and he felt himself grow even harder at the thought. Her lips were on his jaw now, and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Please,” he panted. “Kiss me…I w-want…I need…”

Bucky felt her lips against his, and she straddled his stomach, purposely brushing against his inner thigh. He was so hard it was almost painful, and he cried out as she kissed him, hard. Giving him what he needed. Bucky’s tongue pressed against hers, and he strained against the restraints, trying to get closer. He bit her lip, grinning at her gasp as he tasted blood.

“Such a naughty boy…what am I going to do with you?”

He could hear she was smiling.

To his surprise, the blindfold was pulled off, and he groaned at the sight of her. God, she was beautiful. She smiled coyly down at him as she ground her core against the taught muscles of his stomach, and he groaned again feeling her slick wetness against his skin.

Her hands ran over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, and he closed his eyes and sighed at the feel of her soft skin against his body. Then she was moving, slotting herself between his legs as her hands trailed down his stomach and over his hips.

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he felt her take him in hand. He whimpered and tugged on the restraints. The denial of touch where he needed it most was killing him, and he was shaking now, his eyes blown black with desire. She grinned.

“A naughty boy,” she repeated, “and naughty boys don’t get to cum until I say.”

And with that, she licked a long stripe up his cock.

Bucky blew out a breath, and squeezed his eyes shut. Her tongue burned, sending liquid fire pumping through his veins to pool low in his belly. He tugged against the ropes again, his stomach tightening as she took him in her mouth.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes, his jaw slack as she went down on him. She ran her tongue over his slit, making his body jump as he cried out. Then she was back, taking all of him as she brought him closer and closer to the edge.

“…oh f-fuck…please, don’t stop…”

She stopped, just short of the edge. Bucky growled in frustration, a growl that turned into a gasp as he felt her hands on him again.

Over and over she brought him to the edge, denying him every time and reducing him to a quivering mess. Bucky’s face was flushed, his hair matted with sweat. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, it was so fast right now—he was sure she could hear it. It was certainly all he could hear.

Well, that and the sinful little noises she made as she watched him. She was perfect, her skin glowing in the candlelight, reflecting off her beautiful curves and catching in her eyes, turning them into starlight. His little star. His goddess.

She smiled down at him sweetly, and if he wasn’t already putty in her hands Bucky would have melted right down onto the floor. She could tell he was close to the end.

Moving swiftly, she straddled him again, lining him up and sinking down in one long movement. Bucky moaned obscenely. She began to move, her hands planted against his chest as she rode him. He couldn’t move much, but she was perfect, clenching down on him and bringing him quickly back to the edge. She leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“Cum for me, Bucky. I want to feel you fill me.”

That did it. If he had any self-control it was long gone now, especially when he felt her clench down as her own orgasm washed over her. The fire burning in his belly raged out of control, consuming him with a white hot flame as he finally released with a hoarse shout.

She held him as he came down. His arms fell limply against the bed as she undid the rope with a yank, but he just lay there, unable to move. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs and his cock twitched inside her, his head buzzing with the intensity of his orgasm.

He felt her lips brush his as he gasped for air, and she left him. Bucky whined, and then she was back, gently running a soft towel over his skin, cleaning up the mess they’d made.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’m right here. Just gonna get you cleaned up.” Another kiss, her lips smiling against his. “So good for me…my good boy.”

Bucky snuggled close to her as she took him into her arms, nuzzling her chest. He felt so loved, so completely and utterly happy, he felt like he would burst.

“I love you, doll,” he murmured against her skin, looking up at her with adoration.

“I love you too, Bucky,” she said as sleep started to claim them both.

“Always.”


	10. Control (Dom!Bucky x Sub!Reader) (Smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Your BDSM relationship with Bucky is about more than just sex–it’s a way to cope when life starts to overwhelm you both.
> 
> Warnings: **18+** Smut, Choking/Breathplay, Healthy Sub/Dom Relationship, Orgasm Denial, Fluff
> 
> A/N: Sequel to Chaos, Dom!Bucky x Sub!Reader

“Beg.”

You skin was glistening with sweat, head thrown back and panting with need. This time it was you who had been reduced to a quivering mess, orgasm after orgasm denied while you whined and moaned. Bucky still hadn’t given you what you needed—yet.

He towered over you, imposing and dark, his ice blue eyes gleaming with hunger. With control. It was what you both needed this time, the reversal of roles that took away your will, leaving you helpless in his hands.

Bucky was taking his time with you. He hadn’t completely dominated you, not yet. He wanted to see you beg first.

Long chestnut hair hung in his face, partially obscuring his eyes. He growled when you didn’t respond. His prosthetic arm whirred, and you flinched when his left hand caressed your face, the metal cold against your skin. Not in fear, though—in arousal.

For just a moment, his eyes softened with love, and then he was back into character. His hand tightened around your jaw, firm but not squeezing.

“Beg,” he said again.

His voice was harsh gravel, the lust there leaving you weak in the knees.

“P-Please..”

“Please _what_?”

He leaned close to you, blue eyes blown black. Staring you down.

“Please sir, I…I wanna cum.”

Eyes flashed, and he breathed deeply. His body pressed up against yours, shirtless but still clad in his jeans, the denim harsh against your naked skin. He rubbed his nose against your jaw, his lips grazing over the soft spot behind your ear with a tender kiss. You felt his teeth nip at your earlobe and he whispered, so softly you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Mine.”

The hand at your throat tightened, and his expression darkened once more. You gasped as his fingers found your core again.

“You’ll cum when I say you can, doll.”

You couldn’t remember how many times he’d brought you to the edge and back. A submissive whimper left your throat as Bucky held you up against the wall with his forearm, his fingers slipping inside your already soaking core. You gasped and arched against him as his thumb brushed your clit, and the hand around your throat began to tighten.

Involuntarily, you clutched his wrist. Already your breathing was restricted, and his hand continued to tighten as the heat built. You felt his thumb shift over your pulse point, monitoring you to make sure he didn’t push you too hard.

Bucky was in total control, dominating you in every sense. He controlled your breathing, your orgasm…he held your very life in his metal hand. And you loved it.

It freed you, to just let go.

Bucky’s eyes were inches from yours as he watched you come undone, fighting for air and your own orgasm. Stars were exploding behind your eyes, the metal hand tightening around your throat as you floated away on a cloud of bliss. He saw the exact moment you surrendered to him, your body going limp with pleasure and seconds away from the edge.

Instead of letting you fall, he released you completely, holding you up against the wall as you gasped for air. His lips smashed against yours in a bruising kiss, and you tasted blood as he bit your lip…hard.

Despite your exhaustion and frustration, you grinned, knowing he was getting you back for the other night.

Bucky licked the blood from your lip and smirked. “Not yet. You’re mine, and I want to feel you around me when you cum.”

He pushed you onto the floor. “Pants. Take them off.”

His breath hitched as you complied, slowly unzipping his jeans and easing them down his muscular frame. He was already rock hard, the fabric of his boxer briefs soaked with pre-cum. You pulled him free, and he groaned as you took him in hand, staring up at him with a wanton look that you knew was guaranteed to set him ablaze.

You were just about to take him in your mouth, when he caught your jaw with his metal hand.

“No. Get on your knees, ass in the air.”

Bucky was breathing heavily as he positioned himself behind you, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Yet you knew there wouldn’t be any tomorrow. Bucky never left a mark on you. His hand smoothed over your back, a tender touch before he smacked you—hard—on the ass, the blood rising to the surface.

You yelped, the sound turning into a scream of pleasure as Bucky pushed into you in one swift movement. His thrusts were harsh and dominating, but they were exactly what you needed, bringing you both swiftly to the edge. Bucky’s hand gripped your throat again, lifting you up and back against his chest as he continued to grind into you.

His hand tightened, cutting off your air completely as he panted into your ear.

“Cum for me, doll, I want to feel you.”

As if on command, you did, gasping as he allowed your release. Bucky lowered you to the floor, flipping you over and continuing to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out as he chased his own.

You were floating. You couldn’t see or feel anything except Bucky, your body not your own. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over you as his thrusts grew erratic, and your eyes drifted closed as you felt him release inside you.

You came back to yourself, hearing his soft voice and feeling his gentle lips on your face.

“Sweetheart, talk to me.”

Your entire body tingled, and you didn’t even have the strength to open your eyes. The strength of your orgasm had left you a limp mess. Your lips moved, murmuring his name.

“Honey, you’ve got to talk to me. I need to know you’re okay.”

Strong hands against your cheek, lips against yours. Deep blue eyes met yours, awash in concern. Even after all this time, he always worried he’d push you too hard.

“I’m okay, Bucky. I’m here.” You took his hand and kissed the knuckles, smiling sweetly up at him.

Bucky sighed in relief. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he set you carefully on the bed. He gently cleaned you up with a soft towel, pulling the blankets over you both and settling next to you.

All traces of his need for control was gone. You were both yourselves again, the demons of the day laid to rest.

And now you both could as well.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You never do,” you replied. “You know I need it just as much as you, Buck.”

He smiled softly at you, kissing the tip of your nose. “I know.”

Still, he traced the lines of your throat as if checking for marks. You stopped his hand, bringing it to your lips and shaking your head. Pushing up into him, you captured his lips with yours.

Most people wouldn’t understand, what the two of you had. It was maybe a bit unconventional, but what you had far surpassed any sexual need. Bucky was your equal. Your partner in every sense of the word, and the relationship you shared had saved both of you from drowning in your fears.

“I’m a very lucky woman,” you said. “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your head against his chest.

“Always.”


	11. Hold Me Up (Fluff, slight whump)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all the painkiller Bucky needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Size Difference, Hurt!Bucky, Angst, and Fluff
> 
> A/N: The prompt was: “Reader works at the compound and is well liked by the Avengers. One night, she can’t sleep because everyone is on a mission. She’s in the kitchen when Bucky returns from his solo-mission. He’s battered and bruised, but alive. He can barely keep standing but gladly accepts her in his arms when she flings herself at him. Maybe they like each other more than just friends after all and it’s time to admit that…”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this tired. Maybe after he and Steve had pulled that all-nighter tracking a Hydra sleeper cell through the Bolivian jungle, but no…wait…that was Colombia…and it was Sam, not Steve.

Damn, he couldn’t even think straight.

Every inch of him hurt. Even his teeth hurt…a couple of them even felt a little loose. Goddamn rock monster. Whatever happened to fighting good, old-fashioned Nazi’s? The human kind. Now there were enhanced mutants crawling up out of the ground and kicking his ass for a solid hour before he’d been able to put them down.

Everybody’s got a gimmick, now, Sam liked to say.

Or was that Steve?

He wasn’t sure—must be the concussion talking.

Well, at least I’m alive, he thought as he dragged his sorry ass down the hallway towards the kitchen. Or, half-alive at least. He was limping heavily and could barely stand to draw a breath, broken ribs protesting with each inhale. Tomorrow, he was sure his face would be all sorts of pretty colors, but for right now it was mostly black and blue.

Strangely, he was ravenous. Bucky was absolutely starving, and as bad as he was hurting, all he could think about was the leftover pizza he’d saved in the fridge.

If Clint had eaten it again he was gonna kill him.

The light was on in the kitchen, which was odd because it was nearly three in the morning. Someone was in there, and he could hear the sound of dishes. Bucky knew it. He _knew_ it.

“Clint, I swear to god if you’re eating my—”

He ground to a halt. It wasn’t Clint.

It was Y/N.

She turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in shock. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, nearly spilling the mug she’d been pouring tea into.

“Bucky!”

He froze as she launched herself into his arms, her relief at seeing him alive momentarily overshadowing the need to be careful. Bucky grunted in pain, but then he sighed, feeling her tiny body pressed up against his.

How long had he thought about this very moment?

Bucky let out a shuddering breath. Too long. He’d been pining after her for months. She was the one person he could be himself with, the one person he didn’t have to pretend with, and he was completely soft for her. The only problem was he’d never said a word about it.

He groaned as her head pressed against a bruise on his chest, her arms inadvertently squeezing his broken ribs. She lifted her chin at the sound, looking up at him in concern.

“Bucky, what happened? How badly are you hurt?”

He sighed as she eased him onto one of the kitchen stools. “It’s not that bad, doll, I promise.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Barnes.”

She took his face in her tiny hands, her eyes flicking back and forth between his. She was half his size, but he felt as if she was the only thing holding him up, the rock on which he could lean when he was weary. There were tears in her eyes, and he gently smoothed them away.

Wait—why was she crying?

“I was so worried about you Bucky…after you missed that check-in. I-I thought the worst.”

Bucky frowned. She was really upset. “How long have you been sitting up here?”

“All night.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about me,” he said with a tired smile. “I’m like a bad penny—I’ll always turn up.”

His attempt to lighten the mood went unnoticed. There were still tears in her eyes, and she was looking at him like he might just fade away. The smile faded from his lips, and he placed his hand over hers at his cheek.

_Wait…does she…does she like me?_

“How can you say that?” Her hands still hadn’t left his face. “Of course I worry about you. You’re my friend, Bucky, and that’s all I though you were until tonight. Until I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Bucky’s breath caught, and he blinked in surprise.

“Now that you’re here, I don’t want to go one more second without you knowing how I feel.”

Somehow, he found his voice. “And h-how do you feel? About me.”

Soft lips touched his, and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her tightly against him, not caring how much it hurt. Y/N liked him. She really _liked_ him, and that was all the painkiller Bucky needed.

Until he put weight on his injured leg.

He groaned loudly, looking down at her apologetically. Y/N shook her head at him and smirked.

“C’mon, soldier, let’s get you fixed up.”

“Medical?” he grumbled. “It’s not that bad, sweetheart.”

Y/N took his arm and pulled it over her shoulders, supporting his weight against her tiny frame.

“I was thinking something more personal,” she said as she snatched the first aid kit off the wall. “I know you hate medical.”

He grinned suggestively down at her. “You gonna nurse me back to health, doll?”

“That’s the idea, big guy.”

Bucky grinned as she led him back to her room.

“Yes, ma’am.”


	12. Water Over the Dam (Domestic Abuse, Angst, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky can’t stay silent once he notices the bruises on his best friend’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Off Screen Violence, Blood/Injury, Angst, Fluff. **This isn’t overly graphic, but it could be triggering. Please heed the warnings.**
> 
> A/N: This was a request from a Tumblr Anon: “Reader works at the compound and is in an abusive relationship. The team suspects something but Bucky, who had a crush on reader, has the hardest time holding back. One day reader is worse off than ever and Bucky just goes berserk.”

The first time Bucky noticed it was when they were at the range together. The wincing. The way she favored her right side. Y/N was as cool as they came, her finger always steady on the trigger, but it wasn’t that day.

Then, later, he’d caught a glimpse of a horrible bruise on her thigh, just above her knee. It was almost as big as the palm of his hand. She had been changing out of her stealth suit, a sight that would normally give him palpitations and leave him a quivering mess, but that day Bucky had felt his blood run cold.

Even though she was still wearing shorts and a tank top, Nat had chased him off, calling him a peeping tom, but not before he’d seen the bruise and the horrified look in her eye as she shifted her leg out of sight.

Later she gave him a lame excuse about running into a table. Bucky knew it was a lie.

Other things began to add up.

More lies.

_I fell down the stairs._

_I slammed my hand in a car door._

_I’m just clumsy, I guess._

_Don’t worry about it, I’m fine._

Bucky began to notice more bruises, more marks. Some were hidden with long sleeves and long pants, some with excuses. Bucky found it odd that as clumsy as she claimed to be, she never had a single mark on her face.

She also never stumbled around him.

It came to a head one night, the night he found her crying in the stairwell. He could tell she was trying to be as quiet as possible, but hey—super soldier hearing and all. Bucky tried to comfort her, but she flinched away from his touch so hard she nearly fell down the stairs. She mumbled something apologetic and fled.

Bucky stood there on the sidewalk outside the Compound and watched her drive home. He knew she lived with her boyfriend, “Mike.” It was a fact that burned him down to his very core, and that night Bucky felt himself burning with more than just jealousy.

Anger. Low and brutal, smoldering in his belly.

He wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen them together at parties. Mike was possessive and handsy, but it had never struck him as something more—until now.

Bucky loved Y/N. Yes, love. He loved everything about her, and he pined for her in the cruel way that’s reserved for best friends who dream of something more. But even now, he questioned that label. Best friends don’t lie to each other. Best friends don’t let the other one get beaten.

Best friends don’t ignore.

Bucky turned on his heel and walked back inside, not stopping until he was at the common room. It was movie night, but he could give exactly two shits about that right now. He flicked on the light to a chorus of groans.

“What’s going on with Y/N? Is Mike…is he putting his hands on her?”

Now that he actually had to say it out loud, Bucky could barely get the words out.

His question was answered with uncomfortable silence and averted eyes. Then, everyone started talking at once.

“I’m sure it’s nothing—"

“…probably have the wrong idea.”

“We don’t know for sure.”

“…not our place to say anything.”

“She’d tell us if something was wrong.”

“Do you even hear yourselves right now?!” Bucky roared. “I _know_ something’s wrong. I know it. Y/N’s not herself, not lately. Anyone with two eyes can see—”

“What, Buck? There’s no proof—”

“The proof’s right there on her fucking body!” Bucky yelled, cutting Steve off. “It’s—”

“…a few bruises and nothing more,” he said. “Look, we’ve all tried talking to her about it at one point or another, but she always tells us everything is fine. We can’t do anything more than that at this point.”

“And what if it’s not, Steve? What if he hurts her—I mean, _really_ hurts her? More than he already has. What if he…”

Bucky trailed off. He saw the looks on their faces, and he knew he wasn’t going to get any further with them. They had their suspicions, yes, but they were holding back.

Bucky stomped off to his room, silently fuming. He’d be damned if he was going to let this go any farther than it had already gone. He looked up, speaking aloud to the AI.

“FRIDAY? Can you please let me know when Y/N returns to the Compound?”

_“Will do, sir.”_

Bucky didn’t see her for three whole days.

Granted, it was a long weekend, but still. Y/N always showed up. She always wanted to hang out with him…may be spar a little, maybe watch a movie or grab a bite to eat. Or, at least, she used to.

Bucky was a wreck by the time Monday rolled around, and when she was absent from the range again that day, he decided to take action. He’d just laced up his boots and shrugged on his jacket, when FRIDAY called him.

_“Pardon me, Sergeant Barnes?”_

“Yes?”

_“Miss Y/L/N has returned to the Compound. I feel I should inform you, though, she’s taken one of the recruit rooms and has requested to be left alone.”_

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Which room?”

Ten seconds later he was striding purposefully down the hall, although that lead weight in his stomach felt heavier with every step. He banged on her door, all pretense of cordiality forgotten.

“Y/N? Open up. I know you’re in there.”

Her voice was strained and tired sounding. “Buck, I’m really not in the mood for company right now, please leave me alone.”

“Doll, either you can open this door up, or I can knock it down—your call.”

Silence. Bucky was just about to step back and kick it in, when he heard the lock on the door disengage. It swung open, allowing him to enter.

Y/N stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her hair hanging in her face and her chin down.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice shook, and he swallowed thickly as he reached for her face. She flinched, and his hand paused midair.

“Please.” He barely whispered the word, but she heard him.

Y/N shut her eyes as he carefully brushed her hair back.

One eye was completely swollen shut, and her lip was split. Dark bruises colored both eyes. Bucky could see the dried blood that was still crusted in her hair where she tried to clean herself up, and there was more on her shirt.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths as he counted to ten and back.

Without a word, he guided her to the bed. He carefully sat her down, gritting his teeth as she winced. Grabbing supplies from the bathroom vanity, he gently cleaned the rest of the blood and treated her injuries, taking note of every bruise, every cut.

He nearly lost it when he saw the bruise on her ribs, suspiciously shaped like a boot.

As he worked, he hummed. A sad little lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him. Bucky tried to pour every feeling he felt for her into his touch, to surround her with warmth and love through every caress, because words weren’t enough.

Words were water over the dam.

Bucky gently brushed his thumb over her darkened cheek, wiping away the tears that had been falling since he started. Finally, he spoke.

“What do you want me to do?”

Y/N stared at the floor for a long moment, before she curled into him. Bucky wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he dared.

“Just hold me. Just…just stay with me.”

“I’m never leaving you, Y/N. Not until you tell me to go. Probably not even then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t be.”

She closed her eyes as Bucky cradled her head against his chest, pressing a kiss to her hair. It tasted like copper.

“I left him. That’s why he…”

Her voice trailed off, but Bucky could fill in the gaps. The blind rage flared within him again, but he tamped it back down. There would be time to be angry, time to deal with Mike, but right now? Y/N needed him.

Bucky laid back on the bed, and she snuggled into his side. Part of his heart was singing at being finally able to hold her in his arms, and part of him was recoiling in horror at the circumstances.

“Thank you, Bucky. You’re always there for me, even when I’m too blind to see it.”

Bucky huffed, rubbing his lips against her hair as his eyes started to burn. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”


	13. Water Over the Dam Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: History/Aftermath of Domestic Abuse, Angst, Violence (By Bucky towards the Abuser), Language (Bucky swears a lot), Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N/N: This is part two, for everyone who requested a confrontation between Bucky and Reader’s abusive ex.

_Blam!_

_Blam! Blam! Blam!_

You all but emptied the clip into the target, leaving one in the chamber and cycling through a tactical reload on pure muscle memory. Then you emptied that clip as well.

You benched your weapon and removed your hearing protection and safety glasses, noting that your hands were still shaking. You glanced at the clock. Maybe there was time for one more before you shut the range down for the night.

You’d just broke open a new box of ammo and were reloading your clip when you heard the range door open. It was very late at night, and only one person would know to look for you there.

Bucky.

He moved into your peripheral line of sight so as not to startle you, ducking his head with a little smile by way of hello. Not saying a word, he selected his weapon from the rack and took the lane next to you. The two of you worked in silence as you finished loading your clips, and you felt grateful you didn’t have to hide the way your hands were shaking, or how the anger and shame had pinched your brow and thinned your lips.

After all, Bucky had already seen you at your worst.

For a few long minutes it was deafening as the shots kicked up downrange and the familiar smell of hot lead, gun oil, and cordite drifted over you both. It probably wasn’t the heathiest way of dealing with your demons, but it was a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.

“I think you got ‘em,” Bucky nodded thoughtfully towards your target. A nice grouping of headshots, with several more grouped center mass. His lips twitched at the smaller grouping lower down towards the groin area, shots he knew had been deliberate.

“Yep. He’s pretty dead.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes…No. At least my hands aren’t shaking anymore.”

Bucky looked down sadly, and he took your hand in his as if to confirm this fact. Not with pity—never pity—but sadness and a low undercurrent of anger.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

You clenched your jaw. Moving beyond the firing line, you started policing up your brass, and Bucky fell in next to you.

“Mike was spreading rumors about me on Facebook and Twitter. Awful things—truly awful. I deleted all of my social media accounts.”

The only reason you knew Bucky was angry was the furious whirring of the servos in his arm as the plates shifted in agitation. He’d never voice it, though, and you were grateful. Bucky respected your privacy and kept his thoughts about your former relationship with you abusive ex-boyfriend to himself, instead providing you a safe and loving shoulder to lean on.

_“What do you want me to do?”_

That’s what he had asked that first night, the night he’d found you beaten bloody after you had finally gathered the courage to leave Mike. And it was what he stood by. Never telling you what he thought you should do, or voicing his anger on your behalf. Never pushing you or leading you down a path you weren’t ready for.

It wasn’t romantic, the relationship between you. Bucky was the closest thing you had to a best friend, and although you suspected he wanted something more with you, he _never_ pushed for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he dumped a handful of shell casings into the brass barrel. “You shouldn’t have to read the filth that asshole spews. Are you okay?”

Tentative hands rested on your shoulders, one warm and one cold. But both giving you strength when you felt like you had none left.

You folded into his embrace. “I’m not okay, but I’m better than I was.”

Bucky hummed, trailing his fingers lightly up and down your spine. Just listening.

“You know…you’re the reason I finally came to my senses and left him” you said. “That night…in the stairwell…I was so embarrassed to be seen like that.” You shuddered and he held you tighter. “Your face…it was like holding up a mirror, and I didn’t like what I saw. I’d probably still be with that asshole if it wasn’t for you. I was so weak.”

Bucky frowned and tilted your chin up. “Don’t you ever sell yourself short. Mike manipulated you into thinking that your relationship was normal, and you stuck it out because you thought you loved him. That’s not weakness. It’s loyalty, even if it is misplaced.”

Bucky helped you into your jacket and offered his hand, and you took it. “I think it took an incredible amount of courage to leave him like you did, and I also think it takes a lot of heart to keep your head up in the aftermath and keep moving.”

Bucky was looking at you with such intensity that your breath caught in your throat.

“Why do I always feel like you can see right through me, Bucky,” you laughed nervously. Your brow creased. “I think that’s what it was in the stairwell that day. When I’m with you, I just feel so…so _seen_.”

You were in the elevator now, and although he tried to hide it, the bright lights illuminated the wave of emotions that passed over his face. Sadness, Longing… _Desire_. You could read each and every one as clearly as the pages of a book, and they sent an unexpected bloom of heat to your core.

Well, maybe not completely unexpected.

You were very much aware of your attraction to Bucky. And maybe—although you would _never_ admit this to him—that was a tiny bit of the reason you’d stayed with Mike as long as you had. Out of guilt. Bucky’s name had certainly come up in plenty of arguments, and you’d weathered your share of bruises over it as a result. Another bit of information you would take to your grave.

The elevator dinged open onto the residence wing. Bucky had personally helped you move your things from your apartment to the Compound, and to be honest, it was nice to finally have your own place. Really nice. Mike had never really allowed you to pick out anything for the apartment, and it was nice to be able to decorate a space you felt comfortable in.

Bucky hesitated at your door, as he always did. “Will you call me if you need anything?”

“I will. I was upset earlier, but the range really helped. And you—thank you for what you said.”

“I meant it.”

“I know. Thank you, still.” You looked up at him, blue eyes so liquid and soft you felt like you could fall right down into their depths. Part of you wanted to ask him to stay. A large part.

But you wouldn’t. You needed to stand on your own two feet first, independently. Bucky understood that.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

You didn’t miss the flush that crept in afterwards. His breath hitched again and he smiled crookedly at you, giving your hand a final squeeze.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

***

Another one of Tony’s godforsaken parties.

At any other point, you would have relished it. You loved getting dressed up, the glitz and the glamor. Hanging out with your friends, dancing and laughing until all hours of the night. Even Mike watching you from the wings had never dampened your spirits too much.

Until now.

This was the first party you’d attended since you’d left him. And you _knew_ he’d be there. Mike was still employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. in their R&D department, so you knew he’d gotten an invite.

But you had decided that you wouldn’t let him bring you down tonight. You wanted to relax and have a good time without looking over your shoulder. There would be tons of people there, and you could most likely just avoid Mike.

You’d dressed sensibly. A midnight blue swing dress with a sweetheart neckline, something modest but stylish enough to fit in. Topped off with matching two-tone T-Strap heels with silk stockings, you felt understated but deliciously sexy.

Especially when you saw Bucky.

He actually did a double take. Standing there in between Clint and Steve, all three men looking immaculate in their tuxes—but Bucky outshone them all. Hair pulled back to the nape of his neck and looking like he just stepped off a runway, he stared at you as he set his drink down.

“You…you look stunning,” he breathed, kissing your cheek and letting his lips linger.

“You clean up pretty good yourself, mister.”

Bucky blushed, ducking his head with a little smile, but said nothing. Instead, he offered you his arm, and he led you over to a table where the others had settled.

“What’re you drinking?” Nat hollered over the music.

“Just white wine, nothing fancy.” You wanted to keep your head about you with the possibility of Mike lurking in the wings. Even amongst friends, just knowing he was out there set your teeth on edge.

As the night wore on, though, you found yourself worrying about Mike less and less. Laughing over Sam and Clint’s antics, gossiping with Nat, rolling your eyes over Steve and Bucky’s good-natured arguments over the Mets’ chances that year. It was nice to be with your friends without having to constantly look over your shoulder.

Of course, Bucky’s little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking helped to take your mind off of Mike, too.

“Dance with me?”

The request was simple and took you completely by surprise. Bucky looked at you as if he half expected you to decline, but you took his proffered hand, letting him lead you onto the dance floor.

It was a bittersweet intimacy, dancing with him. So many unexpressed emotions, brought to the surface as you held each other and moved together, one hand in yours and another at the small of your back as he guided you across the floor. Bucky led and you followed, but he still deferred to you. Watching and observing as your slow smile spread into a grin, finally breaking out into laughter that fractured his soul with starlight.

A slow dance now. Lights dimmed down low. Bucky all but halted until you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, and although he tried to hide it, you still felt the slight tremor that tore through his body at your touch.

He held you stiffly at first. Unsure. Beneath the crisp lines of his suit you could feel how fast his heart was beating, and he anxiously studied your face. So you smiled at him, resting your cheek against his as you danced. A soft little sigh, and all the tension ran out of him as Bucky held you just a little bit tighter. 

Blues faded to indigo. His hands on your hips, breath light and warm in your ear, feeling safer than you ever had before. As cliché as it was, the two of you there were the only ones present in your mind as he held you. The world began and ended in his arms, and it was in that moment that you fell hopelessly in love with Bucky Barnes.

Ultimately, the song ended. A flush had risen to your cheeks, and you felt wholly undone.

“I’m…I’m just gonna…I’ll be right back,” you stammered.

Bucky dutifully released you, but he bit his lip and you could see the conflict and worry pass across his features. “Okay.”

Away to the bathroom you fled, that sanctuary of all troubles female. The conversations there were laughable and unsettlingly along the lines of your own concerns. _Does he like me? Is it too soon? Should I make the first move?_

God, you wanted to. It had been two months since you had left Mike, and while some might deem that too soon, you knew in your heart what you wanted. You cared for Bucky, and you were pretty sure he returned your feelings, even if he had yet to act on them out of deference to you.

You washed your hands and studied your reflection in the mirror, your mind made up. Smoothing the lines of your dress, you left the bathroom in search for Bucky.

You were almost at the end of the long hallway when a hand closed over your arm and roughly yanked you into an alcove. A body pressed up against you, and a voice you knew all too well purred in your ear.

“Well, well. Fancy running into you here.”

You tried to twist out of his grip. “Let me go, Mike.”

Instead, he slammed you up against the wall, the back of your head connecting painfully with the bricks as he caged your body with his. The stink of alcohol was thick on his breath.

“You think I wasn’t watching you out there? Dancing with your little pal—your _Bucky_? Rubbing up against him? You little slut,” he spat. “I knew you two were fucking around behind my back.” Mike’s hands clenched into fists on either side of your head.

You tried to keep your voice steady, to sound braver than you felt. “Let me go, Mike, it’s over. _We’re_ over. My friends are expecting me—”

“Your friends?” He laughed cruelly, his face twisted in anger. “That’s all you ever cared about. Them. You never cared about me, or you never would have left me. _I loved you_. I gave you everything—”

“You gave me a black eye and three broken ribs! You hit me, Mike, and not just once. Over and over again. That’s not love. Maybe I loved you once, but the day you put your hands on me was the day you ended it. You. _Not me._ ”

You didn’t know where this burst of courage was coming from, but you felt it welling up now, raw and angry and _red_ , and even Mike’s threats couldn’t dampen it.

Not even when he pulled his hand back to hit you.

You instinctively flinched, but the blow never landed. Mike yelped as he was yanked off his feet, a yelp that turned into a strangled scream as you heard the distinctively sickening sound of a bone breaking. Bucky had caught Mike’s arm before he could swing, tossing him across the hall like a rag doll.

Bucky was on him in a second, lifting him up by the jaw with his metal hand before Mike even had a chance to slide to the ground. His eyes were wide and frantic as Bucky squeezed, leaning down menacingly.

“Y/N doesn’t belong to you anymore. She’s with me now.” Bucky’s metal arm whirred, tightening its grip, and Mike whimpered. “You ever look at her again—you even breathe the same air as her, and I won’t just break your arm. I will take you apart, piece by piece, until you’re begging me to kill you. I will make it _last_. Do I make myself clear?”

Mike choked out a yes. A dark stain was spreading down his trouser leg, and Bucky dropped him in disgust. He pointed towards the exit.

“Run. Don’t walk. If I ever see you set foot in this building it’ll be your last. Consider your resignation tendered.”

Bucky’s protective posture remained until Mike disappeared around the corner. Then his shoulders fell.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His hands lightly trailed over your face and arms, looking for injury. He shook his head, swearing colorfully. “I’m so sorry, I should have come sooner. I could’ve stopped—”

You threw your arms around him. “No—Bucky. Thank you. Thank you for what you did, and for what you said.”

Bucky pulled back suddenly. “Jesus—shit! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean that. Fuck, I sounded like such a neanderthal. You know I don’t think that way, that whole _‘you belong to me’_ thing. It’s just—I was so angry, and he—”

“I get it, Bucky. You had to speak his language,” you smirked. “I think he got the message.”

“Good.” Bucky looked relieved. “Good. I don’t ever want you to think that I look at you that way—I-I mean, you’re your own woman, you don’t belong to anyone, but—”

“Bucky?”

He blinked at you, a little out of breath. “Yeah?”

“You’re talking too much.”

“Wha—”

His question was cut off as you kissed him, a strangled moan giving way to a sigh as his lips parted against yours, tension and desperation giving way to something softer. Sweeter.

Hands cupped your face, smoothing against your cheekbones and trailing down your neck, down your sides. Worshiping you, feeling you and tasting you in a way you’d never felt before. Even now, with him, you felt _seen_. Adored. Loved.

Bucky’s hands settled at your waist and he pulled you even closer, another heady moan escaping his lips as you ran your fingers through his hair. Your name whispered like a prayer and he kissed across your jaw and down your throat until he reached your shoulder, and he shuddered before lightly kissing the exposed skin there.

You murmured his name and he pulled back slightly, eyes flicking back and forth between yours as he silently wondered where these new feelings were headed.

“I’ve wanted that for a long time,” he said. “Probably longer than was considered appropriate.”

“Bucky, I…I want this. I want you.”

He exhaled sharply. “I do too, but…it’s not too soon?”

“No. I’ve had time to myself, my time to find myself again. And I keep returning to you. Not out of any misguided sense of needing a man, but because I want _you_.” You frowned, trying to choose the words so he would understand. “Before, when I left Mike, I felt like I was crawling away. I felt like a coward for staying so long. But tonight…tonight I felt like I finally said my piece. I finally stood up to him.”

“I know. I heard. You were fierce, and I am so proud of you.” Bucky’s eyes were shining. He pressed a kiss to your temple, hands trailing down your sides. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Tell me, because I want to give you everything. Anything if you’ll let me.”

You heard his previous question repeated, the one he’d asked you that awful night he’d found you after you left Mike.

“Just hold me,” you smiled. “Hold me and never let go.”

“Never. I’m never letting you go, doll,” Bucky’s lips twitched. “You wanna get out of here? I know for a fact that Tony installed speakers up on the rooftop courtyard, and I’d be up for another dance if you’re game.”

You grinned. “It’s a date, mister.”

“Our first?”

“I think it counts.”

You tucked your arm in his, positively radiant with happiness as he led you towards the elevators, and even Nat and Clint’s wolf whistles couldn’t put a damper on the sunshine that was bursting from you.

Because that sunshine had a name, now, and it was Bucky.

The elevator took you up to the roof, where sure enough, music was playing tastefully from the speakers. As if this retreat was made for you, an intimate moment away from prying eyes.

The stars stretched infinitely in the sky as Bucky took you in your arms. His friend, his partner, his equal. And now, maybe another title had been added, one that was new and exciting in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Lover.

The music wore on and you and Bucky danced together, the world falling away until you were the only two souls left in it.


	14. Happy Halloween Sergeant Barnes (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Bucky hates Halloween, until he meets a kid who looks up to him.
> 
> Warnings: Wee bit of Sad!Bucky, lots of Fluff, and Bucky being soft! with little kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow. I posted this one on Tumblr for Halloween, but I forgot to upload it on Ao3, so here ya go.

Bucky decided he hated Halloween.

Okay, he didn’t really _hate_ it—he hated that Steve had dragged him to the stupid Halloween Party that Stark was hosting for the neighborhood kids.

Okay, it wasn’t a _stupid_ party—all the proceeds were going to the local Children’s Hospital, and the kids really looked like they were having a blast. There were pumpkins and hay bales everywhere, the scent of apple cider and pumpkin muffins filling the air. Kids were carving jack-o-lanterns and doing something called “trunk-or-treating”—whatever happened to knocking on doors—and to be honest…everyone looked like they were having fun.

Everyone except Bucky.

“Sourpuss,” Tony jeered as he strolled by.

Steve gave him a look that was half apologetic, half disappointment, and pulled on his helmet. Kids immediately flocked to him.

Bucky huffed and turned back to the griddle, where he was making pumpkin pancakes. He’d found out today that you really can make pumpkin everything, although some of it wasn’t very good.

He was the only Avenger not out there in uniform, being fawned over by kids and parents alike. And it wasn’t like he wanted that either—he definitely did _not_ want the attention. Bucky had very reluctantly agreed to even go to the stupid party only because it was for a good cause.

And because he was a glutton for punishment.

_“Please, Buck—you’ve got to get out of this Tower. You’re names cleared now—”_

_“Don’t wanna,” he said petulantly. “Nobody wants me there, not really.”_

_“I want you there.”_

_“Jesus Christ Stevie…do you always gotta be so noble?”_

_“Does that mean you’ll come?”_

_“Fine. I’m not dressing up, though.”_

He ended up volunteering to work the kitchen—he wasn’t about to just stand there with his hands in his pockets. The work kept him busy. And to be honest, it was kinda nice to hear the kids squealing, see the parents smiling. It reminded him of when he and Steve were little.

Bucky watched them over the griddle as he poured the batter. Steve and Nat, Sam and Tony. Rhodey and Clint had even showed up. Kids surrounded them, their little faces in awe of their heroes as they posed for pictures and signed autographs. Little kids dressed as Captain America, the Black Widow, Iron Man, and all the others.

He noticed that Banner was suspiciously absent. There was another man who wasn’t overly fond of his alter-ego.

Cheryl, the woman working the stand, waved her hand to get his attention. “Hey, James? Can you grab another barrel of cider? We’re almost out over here.”

Bucky started to respond to her, but the words died in his throat. There in front of her was a little boy dressed in a Winter Soldier costume.

Wordlessly, he nodded. He turned and walked woodenly out of the tent, fumbling in his pockets for his cigarettes. He’d grab the cider, but first he had to calm down.

It was the costumes. That’s what did it.

Bucky didn’t mind the idolization of his fellow Avengers. Far from jealousy—he was proud to know them, and was happy to see his friends’ sacrifices rewarded and to see little kids look up to them as heroes.

But Bucky Barnes was no hero.

He didn’t want to see little kids dressed up as the Winter Soldier. That man was a monster, a villain. Bucky understood that kids dressed up as villains all the time on Halloween, but to see himself portrayed as that…it made him sick to his stomach.

Bucky sat back on a hay bale and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. Sometimes he felt like that was the only part of himself that was left—the empty shell that was left behind in the wake of the Winter Soldier. He wanted to stop each and every one of those kids and tell them that’s not him. That’s not who he was anymore.

_But that’s a lie, isn’t it? That’s all that’s left of the man who used to be James Buchanan Barnes._

Bucky took a long drag and shut his eyes, trying to swallow down the nausea.

He heard the whoops of the children, and saw another Winter Soldier run by. 

He shouldn’t have come here.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes?”

A child’s voice. Very close…right at his elbow. Bucky hastily snuffed out his cigarette, taking care not to light the whole haybale on fire.

He cleared his voice. “Um…yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Bucky was speechless. Standing in front of him was a little boy, maybe only seven or eight. He was dressed in a blue cross-buttoned jacket and brown dungarees, a leather strap across his chest and paratrooper boots on his feet. His hair was slicked back.

“Mom said to wait until you came back, she’s talking to her friend Cheryl, but I saw you sitting here and you looked sad.”

Bucky finally found his voice. “What’s your name?”

“Jimmy.”

He swallowed thickly. “What’re you supposed to be?”

Jimmy cocked his head and looked at him like he was crazy.

“You, duh.” He snapped to attention and fired off a salute. “Sergeant James Barnes, reporting for duty.”

Bucky blinked.

Jimmy blushed. It was clearly not the response he was hoping for. He shuffled nervously, looking down at his feet.

“I like history a lot. Mom teaches it at the middle school, and she’s been teaching me about WWII because Grampa served. She told me about Steve Rogers and you, because we were coming here. You’re my favorite, Sergeant Barnes. Everybody likes Steve Rogers, but they forgot how you protected him, how you looked out for him.”

Bucky felt his eyes start to burn. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but he had no words.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “You think I’m one of the good guys, huh?”

Jimmy’s face lit up. “Are you kidding? You’re the best! Mom told me about everything you did during the war and before. How you fought the Nazis, you and Steve, and how you protected him and the rest of the Howling Commandos. She told me that what came after wasn’t your fault, and that it can’t erase all the good you did. You’re my favorite, Sergeant Barnes…you’re my hero.”

Damnit. Now he was going to cry in front of this little kid, and probably scare him. Bucky felt an overwhelming warmth spread through him. One of the good guys. Hell—he was one once, maybe he could be again.

The kid sat on the hay bale next to him, completely oblivious to the emotions that were overtaking Bucky. He swung his feet idly. Bucky smiled tentatively, and held out his hand—his metal one.

“Cool!” Jimmy looked quickly up at him, but Bucky was still smiling. “I mean, Mom told me how you got it, but I still think it’s pretty cool. First you fought the Nazis, now you fight Hydra!”

Bucky chuckled as the kid traced his palm in wonder. He clenched his fist, the metal plates whirring as they shifted, and Jimmy giggled as he jumped back.

“That is so cool!”

Bucky sat there with little Jimmy and forgot all about getting another barrel of cider. He answered the kid’s questions, and even told him a few—very PC—stories about growing up with Steve, and during the war. Jimmy was as smart as a whip, and he felt himself warming to the kid.

Bucky looked up as he heard adult feet approaching. A young woman walked up, and Bucky’s breath hitched. She was lovely, dressed in a peacoat and tall boots, her cheeks painted rosy with the October chill.

“I’m so sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I asked him to wait until your break was over. I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Far from it,” Bucky said, smiling at them both. “I’ve enjoyed talking with Jimmy, more than you’ll ever know. He’s a smart kid.”

She rolled her eyes and looked down at Jimmy fondly. “He was just about beside himself when he found out you were coming.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Y/N.”

Bucky stood and took her hand in his. It was soft and warm and fit perfectly in his.

“Bucky…call me Bucky.”

She smiled at him, and he his heart fluttered. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“It’s a great costume,” he said, nodding at Jimmy. “Did you make it?”

Y/N blushed. “Yeah, we went over the books to make sure, Jimmy wanted everything to be historically accurate.”

“You did a great job.”

Wait—was he flirting? Hastily he checked, and saw she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Bucky was just about to say something else when Cheryl called for him, asking where the cider was.

“Crap! I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.”

And he was…he truly was. Bucky knelt down next to Jimmy, and held out his hand.

“I was great to meet you, Jimmy, and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of who I used to be…reminding me that that man was still there.”

Jimmy launched himself forward in a spontaneous hug that almost knocked Bucky off his feet. Y/N laughed as he picked himself up, ruffling the kid’s hair affectionately.

“You’ve made his year. Thank you so much.”

Bucky smiled at her. “No… thank you. Thank you both.”

Another holler from Cheryl and he rolled his eyes dramatically, shouldering the barrel of cider. Jimmy gave a little wave, and Bucky returned it as he walked back towards the tent.

For the rest of the festival, Bucky was floating. He couldn’t stop smiling. Even Steve raised his eyebrows when he came to check on him.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, Buck?”

“Just glad I came, is all.”

Even the few kids dressed in Winter Soldier costumes didn’t bother him anymore. Jimmy and Y/N had shown him he was more than that.

Bucky felt someone tap him on his shoulder, and he turned. It was Y/N, holding a cup of coffee out to him. Behind her, he could see Jimmy running around with another pint-sized Captain America.

“Hi…again.” She blushed self-consciously.

_God, she’s pretty._

“I’m sorry, this is probably wildly inappropriate, and you probably get this all the time, but I um…just wanted to thank you for being so kind to my son.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide as she handed him the coffee.

_Say something, you idiot!_

There was a warmth blooming in his chest. He had to see her again. He wanted to see them _both_ again. But all he could manage was a crooked smile as he took the coffee with a mumbled thank you. Y/N smiled at him again, and turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Y/N turned.

“Do you…do you wanna go get a coffee or something…sometime?”

_Smooth Barnes…as you hold a coffee in your hand._

To his surprise, though, she smiled. Y/N gently took the cup from his hand, pulled a pen from her purse, and wrote her number on the side.

“I’d like that,” she said, handing it back to him. “Give me a call sometime…whenever you’re ready, no pressure.”

She handed the coffee back to him, and Bucky let his fingers linger on hers. He watched as Jimmy ran to her, and they both walked down the sidewalk towards the subway station. He knew he had a big dumb smile on his face, one Sam was sure to make fun of him for if he ever saw it. Bucky didn’t care, though.

Bucky decided that he liked Halloween after all.


	15. I See You (Angst, Whump, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Whump, Blood/Injury/Medical Procedures, Off-screen Death of Bad Guys, Angst, Language, Fluff
> 
> Summary: The rest of the team doesn’t trust you, but Bucky sees who you really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This request is from a Tumblr who requested a Reader!Whump where the reader is injured, a deep cut on her side, she ignores it and tries to brush Bucky off but he's worried about her and cares for her. Angst and whump and fluff. Here ya go.

“I don’t trust her.”

Nat’s voice was flat and cold, and Bucky ground his teeth in frustration.

“I don’t either, Buck.” Steve agreed. “I don’t think she’s ready for this, and I honestly don’t think she even belongs on the team.”

“Why?” Bucky asked quietly. He already knew the answer.

“She was Hydra.”

“So was I.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Steve said with a pained voice. “ _She_ did. She was a merc, for cryin’ out loud. Money matters more to her than friendship. Than right and wrong. Than _loyalty_.”

Bucky blinked rapidly, trying to keep calm while the plates in his metal arm shifted in agitation. They weren’t being fair. They’d judged her and their minds were made up without even making an attempt to know her.

Bucky knew how that felt. Sure, the team had eventually warmed up to him, but he’d had Steve on his side at least to help sway them. This girl had no one.

She was everything they said. A mercenary. A killer for hire, most recently employed by the very organization that had kept him prisoner for over seventy years. If anyone had reason to hate her, it was Bucky.

But he didn’t.

Quite the opposite, actually.

It had been another raid on a Hydra Facility that had ended with her staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun. He’d seen her in action that day and had expected a fight, but instead she’d lowered her weapon and tossed it away. Surrendering.

He’d watched her interrogation through the one-sided window in the cold, cell-like basement of the Compound. She said she’d come to realize that she was on the wrong side. She admitted what she’d done, and supplied enough information to keep them busy for the next six months.

Bucky hadn’t trusted her, but he admired her spirit. Agent Carter had been tough, but the girl had looked her dead in the eye and held her head up. It couldn’t have been easy for her.

Once her information had played out in their favor, then came the “we could use someone with your talent” speech from Fury. Surprisingly, she hadn’t jumped at the chance—Instead, she told him she needed to think about it.

Bucky watched her through the one-way glass as she sat there for nearly four days. Her expression was closed. Guarded. Ever so often, though just a hint of sorrow and regret would leak past her rigid exterior, enough to make him wonder.

Finally, she told Fury yes.

To say the team did not accept her with open arms would be a gross understatement. They were civil, but they were cold. She seemed to expect it, always professional and respectful in return, never pushing for more.

Bucky didn’t trust her at first. Not at all. He watched her, followed her, kept tabs on her location. Circled her like a fellow predator, waiting for her to show her true colors.

When she finally did, he realized he couldn’t have been more wrong about her.

Kindness. Compassion.

He saw it when she found a blanket and drew it over Sam after he fell asleep on the couch. He saw how she stayed up to make sure the common area was tidied after everyone had gone to bed, and how she got up extra early to make sure that fresh coffee was made for everyone. He saw her carefully set Steve’s phone on the counter in plain view after finding it lodged in the couch cushions, rather than scrolling through it—the idiot never kept it locked.

Time and time again, he saw her pass up opportunities to gather information or undermine them. He saw her go the extra step, make a kind gesture when no one was looking.

And the funny thing was…no one noticed. No one said a word about it, certainly not Y/N. The more he watched her, the more he realized that she didn’t want anyone to know—that she was doing it out of kindness, rather than using it as leverage for acceptance.

Instead, she acted as though she didn’t deserve their acceptance at all, which was another feeling Bucky understood all too well.

“She understands loyalty, and she understands friendship,” he told Steve. “More than you know.”

“Oh, are you an expert on her now?” Nat scoffed.

“No, but I understand her more than you.” Bucky kept his tone even. “You don’t _want_ to know her—you’re not even trying. Ever wonder why the coffee’s always fresh? Why everything seems tidy, and nothing’s ever missing? If you’re not feelin’ so hot or you fall asleep in the common room—suddenly there’s some Gatorade and aspirin set on the table or a blanket over you. It’s all her. She _cares_.”

Nobody said a word, but Bucky could see them all considering his words.

“Just let me take her on this mission. It’s a simple two-man sweep job. I can handle her if she goes rogue.”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, testing his resolve. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay, Buck.”

***

A knock on your door, which you opened to see none other than Bucky Barnes staring back at you. His face was a blank mask, eyes intense. Sizing you up. Waiting for you to make a move.

“Suit up. Meet me at the Quinjet in twenty, we’ve got work to do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. As you closed the door, you leaned against the wall, letting out an unsteady breath and closing your eyes.

“Fuck.”

Your first mission, and it was with Barnes. Of course it was. The man who hated you more than anyone, and with good reason.

Saying yes to Fury had been a mistake. You’d hoped that over time you could start to redeem yourself, to try to balance out some of the bad with a few good deeds, only…it wasn’t that simple.

Nobody wanted you here. That was made abundantly clear to you on day one. Nobody trusted you, and although you knew you deserved it, you also understood that nothing would ever get them to accept you. You were the enemy. You’d chosen your colors long ago, and you were just finding out how hard they were to wash off.

Bucky hated you most of all. Once or twice you’d seen him following you, watching you, and you knew there had been many more times when you hadn’t noticed him at all. The man was a ghost. The feeling was something akin to being stalked through the woods by a wolf.

And now here you were. Sitting side by side in the Quinjet’s cockpit, with nothing but empty sky and several long hours in front of you. For a while, you both just sat there in silence, and you read from the mission brief while Bucky stared pensively out the windscreen.

“Why’d you join Hydra?”

The question was asked so bluntly and so quietly that it took you off guard. Slowly, you closed the folder.

“My parents were Hydra. My father worked in their weapons division as a scientist, and my mother worked as a communications secretary. I was enrolled in their training program at a young age.”

“How young?”

You were quiet for a moment. “Seven.”

Bucky considered that. “Why a mercenary?” he asked quietly. “Why not stay a regular soldier?”

You shrugged. “The pay was better. I could pick my assignments, and I wanted a challenge.”

The silence stretched on. You stared straight ahead with your chin up, not wanting to seem as weak or broken as you felt by his judgement.

“Why’d you leave?”

“Sokovia.”

You didn’t elaborate, but Bucky turned to look at you, indicating that you should.

You sighed. “They were hurting civilians. Families, and children. I know that they’ve always done that, but…that was the first time I saw it up close. I…I didn’t do that sort of thing, I was a soldier, not a murderer.” You looked at him. “Were you there?”

He shook his head no.

You nodded. “It was bad. There was a…a little girl, probably about five or six, I don’t know, and she was caught in the crossfire. Pinned down. I snapped. I was trying to get to her, but then…there was Rogers. He stepped right out in front of all those bullets and shielded her, scooped her up and took her to safety. That was when I realized that I was on the wrong side.”

You both knew what happened after that. Bucky had drawn down on you on the second floor of the Hydra Facility a week later, and you’d surrendered to him. For some reason still unknown to you, he hadn’t killed you. Instead, he’d brought you in, and you spend the next memorable week in a holding cell.

“Why’d you decide to stay? With us.”

A muscle in your jaw twitched, and you bit it back. You were getting fed up with the twenty questions and his cryptic responses. You were tired of feeling like you were under a microscope. Tired of being reminded of just how bad of a person you were.

“I want to do something good with my life. Whatever time I’ve got left, I…I don’t want what I did with Hydra to be the only thing I leave behind.”

You opened the mission brief again, signaling that the line of questioning was now over. Your head was down, so you missed the way Bucky’s eyes softened and his hand started to reach for yours, before he pulled back and cleared his throat.

“We’ll be there in fifteen, you should go gear up.”

***

It was a simple mission that turned into an ambush. Bucky swore under his breath as he kicked the weapon away from another dead Hydra soldier. He really should stop calling these missions “simple,” it was like a jinx every time.

He shook the concrete dust from his hair, coughing—one of the soldiers had tried to bring the whole building down on top of them. They’d been met with a much larger force than they’d bargained for, and Bucky had to admit, he was impressed with Y/N.

She followed his orders down to the letter. She was fierce, even saving his skin once, blocking an attack just as a soldier had tried to come at his unprotected back with a knife. She’d disarmed and killed the man before Bucky could even turn around.

He looked over to where she was standing. She was covered in dirt and grime, just like him, but his lips twitched in a lopsided smile as she completely ignored that fact in favor of scouring the Hydra database and pulling as much information as possible.

Bucky hadn’t meant for their earlier conversation to get so intense. He could see she was getting upset, and her answers had broken his heart.

Seven. She’d never even known a real childhood. And now, to realize everything she’d sacrificed for had been a lie…

He hated that she felt that way—mistrusted. An outsider. Deserving of nothing but contempt. It was something Bucky would have to work to change, because he liked her.

No, it was more than that. He was falling for her.

So many layers. Pain and insecurity, strength and kindness, all wrapped up into one complex package. Bucky wanted to know each and every one, and he felt like she was someone he would want to know his layers as well. Right down to the deepest and darkest of them.

She stumbled a bit as she walked up the ramp, and he caught her arm.

“You okay?”

He smile was stiff and her face pale.

“I’m fine.”

It wasn’t until later that Bucky realized it had been a lie. Steve called in over the radio, and he saw her hand shake as she reached for the mic. His eyes darted to her face and then down at her side.

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

Red. So much red, staining the dark fabric of her uniform. Her hand was pressed along her ribs, and blood seeped out through her fingers, dripping onto the floor in a steadily widening puddle.

Bucky tore off his seatbelt and went to her. He tried to reach for the hand clamped to her side, but she flinched away.

“Don’t. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. _You’re_ not fine. Let me look.” He spoke softly, but his words were a command, not a suggestion.

Bucky hissed through his teeth as he peeled back her hand. A long knife wound on her side, deep enough to penetrate through the layer of muscle right down to the bone.

“You need to go to medical.”

She looked down, and blinked, as if she was just realizing that fact herself. She shrugged.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, clamping her hand back over it. “I’ll go take care of it. It’s fine.”

Bucky looked up at her. Her jaw was set, but her breathing was shallow and her skin ashen. As she stood she started to sway, and he quickly jumped up and grabbed her arm before she could fall.

“Will you let me take care of it here? It’s still bleeding heavily, and you’ve already lost a lot.” She hesitated, her eyes narrowing. He placed his hand over hers. “Please. I don’t want it to get worse.”

Finally, she nodded. He slipped her arm over his shoulders, and she leaned on him heavily as he led her to the med cot in the back of the jet. He bit his lip—she was worse off than he’d originally thought.

His jaw clenched as he helped her remove the top half of her stealth suit, and he got a better look at the knife wound. Her tank top was soaked in blood, and from its placement, he realized it was from the soldier that had tried to knife him in the back.

She’d been hurt protecting him.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Bucky kept his voice quiet, but he couldn’t hide the frustration he felt. He pressed hard against her rib cage, trying to keep pressure on the wound as he fumbled through the med kit with his other hand.

“I’ve had worse. I didn’t want to be a bother, I can take care of—”

“Yeah, well you don’t have to,” he snapped. It came out harsher than he intended, and she flinched. Bucky sighed, and he looked up at her. “Your one of us, now. We look after each other. Hell—you got hurt watching _my_ back, patching you up is the least I can do.”

She just stared at him.

“I know you don’t think anyone cares, but they do,” he said _. “I care_.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t respond. Sweat was starting to bead up on her forehead, and her eyes looked glassy. Heartfelt conversations could wait, he needed to tend to her first.

“I’m gonna give you something for the pain—”

She shook her head. “Don’t want it.”

“You’re being stubborn. Take it.”

He held up the auto-injector of morphine, and she rolled her eyes before complying. Popping the cap, she jabbed it into her thigh, relaxing visibly as it kicked in.

Bucky bit back a smirk, but it faded quickly when he got a better look at her injury. There was quite a bit of dirt in the wound.

“This is going to have to be cleaned out, and it’s gonna hurt,” he said apologetically as he helped her lay back on the cot. He filled a syringe and carefully applied a local anesthetic, hoping that between it and the morphine she’d be spared from the worst of it.

Bucky went to work, irrigating with saline and using gauze and tweezers as best he could to clean the wound. It was that damn concrete dust—it was everywhere, and the fact that she was still bleeding heavily wasn’t helping. But unless he cleaned it out properly, the wound would definitely become infected.

Bucky was starting to get worried. She’d lost a lot of blood already, and he still wasn’t done. Other than tensing up when he’d had to probe deeply, she hadn’t said a word.

He pressed his fingers to the inside of her wrist, checking her radial pulse and cursing when he felt how rapid it was. She was going into shock.

Bucky worked quickly, pulling a tourniquet out of the kit and tying it off above her elbow, and he sent up a prayer of thanks when he found a vein on the first try. He hung a bag of saline and opened the stopper on the IV all the way, hoping it would be enough to raise her blood pressure back up and stabilize her.

Her eyes had drifted shut. Bucky brushed a hand across her forehead, and tilted her face towards his.

“Hey—wake up.” Her eyes blearily opened. “Stay with me, sweetheart, keep your eyes open.”

Sweetheart—why had he called her that?

He shook his head. There’d be time to think about that later. Bucky finished cleaning the wound as quickly as he could and then grabbed the suture kit, trying to ignore the slight tremor in his hands.

Her injury was affecting him more that he cared to admit. He felt a deep and biting worry gnawing at his stomach, knowing she’d been hurt as badly as she had and wasn’t going to say a thing about it.

He finished stitching up the wound and breathed a sigh of relief when he re-checked her pulse and found it much stronger and steadier than before. He taped a bandage over the long row of stitches, and pulled a light blanket over her just as her eyes drifted shut again. This time, he let her sleep.

Bucky stared at her. She still remained a mystery to him, but he felt like he understood her a lot better now. Maybe even better than she understood herself.

Tucking the blanket tighter, he let his fingers linger on her shoulder. She was quite pretty—sleep had eased the dark clouds from her features, almost transforming her into a different person. That was the woman he wanted to know better, and Bucky decided right then he’d do just about anything to see a smile on her pretty face.

She had to be exhausted, because he felt tired himself. After a final check of her vitals he made his way back to the cockpit and settled into the pilot’s seat, contemplating his newfound feelings for her as his eyes grew heavy.

He must have drifted off, because he awoke an hour later to the sound of someone sliding into the co-pilot’s chair next to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm as she fastened her seatbelt. Her suit was zipped up tight and she’d removed her own IV, but he could see by the way she moved that she was still in pain.

_Stubborn woman._

She flushed, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I feel much better now, I don’t need to lay back there wasting supplies. I, um…you were right, it was worse than I thought. Thank you.”

Bucky understood how difficult that was for her to admit. He also understood what she meant by wasting supplies—Hydra never bothered much with painkillers or IV’s. His shoulders fell.

“It’s not like that here. You’re not being a bother or wasting supplies. We’re a team. We’re a family, and you’re a part of that—even if the others haven’t seen it yet, they’ll come round. Just give them some time.”

She looked down, and froze. Bucky realized he had reached out and lightly placed his hand on her forearm while he was talking. But she didn’t pull away, so he didn’t either.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked warily. “I thought you hated me. You have every reason to.”

Bucky frowned. “I don’t hate you, I—”

“I’m the enemy.”

“I don’t think that. Just because you were Hydra once doesn’t mean that’s who you are now. I worked for Hydra. So did Nat and Wanda. None of us do anymore, though.”

She was looking at him as if he were an intricate puzzle she was trying to solve. “You said you cared. Why?”

Bucky looked at her, his eyes softening. “Because I see you. I see who you are when no one’s around, what you do when no one’s looking. I see a kind and caring person, someone who’s trying to be better. I see someone who I’d like to know and consider a friend.”

For a second, he was worried he’d said too much. Y/N quickly looked away, but not before he saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes as her jaw clenched. Bucky slowly removed his hand.

“Thank you.”

It was said so softly he almost didn’t hear it. He looked back over and was startled to see her looking at him. Her lips slowly curled up into a smile, and he felt like the sun had come out. It was faint—almost not even there—but it was a smile, nonetheless.

Bucky would take it.

***

**Two Weeks Later**

If someone would have told you that in two short weeks you’d be sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Sam and Nat for movie night, they’d have been able to knock you over with a feather.

It was all Bucky. He must have said something to them, because you’d noticed the change in atmosphere as soon as you’d been released from medical. Bucky had insisted you go, and he didn’t take no for an answer.

You smiled inwardly, looking over to where he was sitting on the other couch. His arms were crossed and he glared sullenly at the television, but you could guess what the reason was.

Bucky had been very attentive after you’d both returned to the Compound. Not pushy, just…attentive. He asked after your injury a couple times a day, wanting to know how you were feeling and how it was healing. He even insisted on changing the bandage himself, saying he didn’t believe you would tell him if anything was wrong. He said it with a cheeky smile, though, and then told you that if anyone knew stubborn when he saw it, it was him.

His attentions weren’t limited to your health, though. He also personally introduced you to nearly everyone he knew at the Compound, and whatever he’d said to the other Avengers upon your return had been enough to turn them completely one-eighty. You’d even gotten an apology from Steve—something that had set your face aflame with embarrassment, and you told him that it really wasn’t necessary.

Bucky held true to his statement that he wanted to get to know you better. He never pushed, giving you space when you needed it, but you had to admit his attentions were flattering. Especially when you’d catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, his heart on his sleeve and a sappy smile on his face.

You asked Nat about it.

“Is Bucky always this…attentive with new recruits?”

Nat smirked. “Well, Barnes is a nice guy, and he certainly does what he can to make people feel welcome, but…I’d say he pays a little more attention to you. He seems like he’d like to pay a lot more attention to you if you let him.”

Okay, _now_ your face was on fire.

Still, Bucky seemed to be waiting for you to make the first move. You almost wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of having a relationship with a coworker. Under Hydra, relationships—even strong friendships—had been prohibited and punishable offenses.

The movie ended and everyone drifted off. You stayed on the couch, playing on your phone. You liked to stay up just a bit and make sure everything was tidied up for tomorrow.

Bucky knew that too.

“Whew! That was a stupid movie.” He plopped down on the couch next to you, and you couldn’t help but notice the heat that flared in your belly when his leg brushed against yours.

_Christ—am I a blushing teenager, or a professional soldier?_

“You looked like you were watching it pretty intently—it looked like you were trying to burn a hole through the tv,” you said dryly.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Steve talks too much during movies. I liked our usual seating arrangement much better.”

There it was, that little peek out of the corner of his eye that reduced you back to a blushing teenager. You closed your phone and bit your lip.

“I did to. Like it better. Th-the old seating arrangement, that is.”

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Bucky didn’t notice. “Yeah?” He barely breathed the word, and the intensity of his stormy blue eyes was doing things to you.

His hand was on his own thigh, palm down, but it was less than an inch from your own. Hesitantly, you shifted your hand until it was touching his, hearing his breath hitch as you curled your pinkie finger around his.

“Yeah.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, and his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest of moments. “Y/N, I…I was…do you think—”

“Yes,” you said as you leaned in to kiss him.

His eyes widened slightly before they fluttered shut, and he melted into you. He cupped your cheek and drew you closer, asking permission with a light flick of his tongue across your bottom lip, permission which you hastily granted. Your lips parted and he deepened the kiss.

Your head spun. The atmosphere in the room was quickly heating up, but it was doused the next moment as Bucky drew his arms around your waist to pull you close, and you let out a little whimper. Immediately, he flinched back.

“I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? Your side—are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been two weeks, Bucky—it’s healed. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell, but he smiled faintly. “I always worry about you, Y/N. You deserve someone to worry about you.”

“Are you applying for the job?” He huffed a laugh, but you continued. “Because I think you deserve someone to worry about you, too.”

“Yeah? You’d…you’d want to be with someone like me?”

You cradled his face, eyes flicking back and forth between his. “Yes. I see you, Bucky. I see how _you_ are when no one’s looking, how _you_ take the time to find the truth before making snap judgements. I see how _you_ gave me a chance, and showed me I can be whoever I want to be.”

He smiled, hearing you repeat what he’d told you before in the Quinjet.

“I see a sweet, caring man who I already consider my friend. One who I want something more with, if that’s what he wants too.”

By way of answer, Bucky surged forward and captured your lips in a kiss that simultaneously took your breath away and left you wanting more. What you’d both been holding back was now released, kissing and exploring each other, filling the common room with the soft laughter of new lovers.

Later, as you sat curled in his arms and staring at the blank tv, talking about everything and nothing, you realized just how much you had been missing. Someone who could see who you truly were, beyond the uniform and the skillset. Someone who was willing to show you who they truly were, as openly and as honestly as you revealed yourself.

For the first time in your life, you were excited about the future.

Bucky hummed as he pressed his lips to your hair. “What’re you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.”

You smiled up at him. Bucky caught your chin and grazed his finger along your jaw.

“That right there. That smile. That’s what I want to put there, today, tomorrow…as however long as you let me.”

You giggled as he nipped your ear, a sound wholly new to you. “You ready for bed, big guy?”

He growled in your neck, and you couldn’t help the heat that surged through you seeing his playful side. “Your room, or mine?”

You kissed him, whispering against his lips.

“Ours.”


	16. Push/Pull (Smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover a new use for your powers as an empath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+**, Smut, Edging, Very minor sub/dom tones

Bucky had been on edge for _hours._

Eyes blown black, color high in his cheeks. Erratic, trembling breaths that he desperately tried to hide just as a lone bead of sweat traced a path down the side of his face, down, down until it lay pooled in the hollow of his throat.

Bucky shifted awkwardly in his seat, glancing around at the faces of his fellow teammates to see if they had noticed how thoroughly wrecked he was. They hadn’t, and he bit his lip as he snuck a glance over at you, barely suppressing a grin.

It first happened by accident a few weeks ago while you were sitting together, reading. A side of your powers as an empath you’d never seen or really thought about exploring before.

Your book wasn’t very good, and you were…distracted.

Bucky. Sitting there in all his sculpted glory across from you, legs spread casually open and his head propped on one arm, soft chestnut locks falling forward in his face as he frowned intently at the book he was reading, completely oblivious to how good he looked. The man was the very definition of humble, and that’s what had attracted you to him in the first place.

The slow, bashful smiles, the gentle, tender way he said your name. The pleasantly surprised look on his face when he woke up next to you each morning, needing to touch you just to make sure you were real.

He turned the page. Your eyes followed the sensual curve of his lips, and you nearly combusted when his tongue darted out to wet them.

Suddenly, his breath hitched, and he cleared his throat. You frowned. He was breathing faster, and he lowered the book down to his lap so he could adjust himself discreetly.

 _Hmm_.

You focused on Bucky again, pushing out feelings of pleasure towards him until you were rewarded with a soft curse and a pretty little blush rising to his cheeks. He was reading _The Grapes of Wrath_ , so you were sure his sudden arousal wasn’t from the book—it was all you.

That was the way it worked, being an empath. You could control the push or pull of emotions from people, but the images were completely supplied by them. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the hungry look on Bucky’s face as he stared at you, and you had just one guess as to the images currently running through his head.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to catch on.

“C’mon, doll. I can take it.”

“Bucky…”

It started out as a bet, fueled by Bucky’s desire to relinquish all control, safe and secure in the complete love and trust you shared as he turned to putty in your hands.

“I bet you’ll cave first,” he challenged. “I know how much you love taking me apart…getting’ me all hot and bothered…”

His voice was soft and low in your ear, and you could feel the intensity of his yearning as you pulled the emotions from him. He knew what you were doing, and gently nipped your ear, causing a flare of his own.

You laughed, high and breathless. “Tease.”

“Please…” Bucky turned the full intensity of his stormy blue eyes and his million watt smile on you, begging and submissive and just as pretty as a picture, knowing he was your undoing just as you were his.

Seeing him beg like that, this great mountain of a man, seeing how much he wanted you, desired _you_ —you were completely soft for him, and would give him the world if you could.

Which led you to where you were now. In the middle of a meeting, keeping your boyfriend on edge while Steve stood at the head of the table and rambled on about god-knows what.

You had to really concentrate here. It was one thing to use your powers when it was just you and him, but here in close quarters you had to be much more careful.

Wouldn’t want half of the Avengers coming in their pants just because you lacked focus.

“Bucky, what’s the status of the weaponry we secured during the last bust. You have a chance to look it over yet?”

Steve’s voice made him jump, and for a second he just stared dumbly at him.

“…w-what?”

“I asked about the guns—didn’t you hear me?”

Bucky gulped, his throat working visibly. A tight glance over at you, pleading for you to go easy on him.

“Ah…yeah, S-Steve. I uh, I checked it out, looks like—” He exhaled sharply and gripped the side of his chair as another bead of sweat trickled down his brow. “It looks like the same stuff we found at the Hydra safehouse last month,” he finished in a rush.

You eased off, and he nearly growled in frustration.

“You okay, Buck? You look a little flushed.”

Bucky laughed nervously. “Actually, I am feelin’ a bit warm.”

Hot under the collar, more like. Bucky stiffened and blinked rapidly as you pushed another wave of pleasure over him, and he gasped a little bit.

Now everyone was looking at him. Steve frowned in concern. “Yeah, you don’t look good. Why don’t you go lay down for a bit.” He glanced at you. “You wanna go with him?”

“Sure thing, Steve.”

You let up completely, unsure if Bucky would even be able to walk to the door if you kept up your game. As it was, you noticed he kept his hands carefully tented across his crotch, trying to hide the very obvious bulge as he hurried from the room.

You followed at his heels. Bucky didn’t slow down until he was inside your shared residential suite, nearly ripping the door off the hinges in his haste.

He was on you as soon as the door shut.

Mouth heavy against yours in a heady, bruising kiss, hands grasping your hair tightly and pulling you closer as he groaned into your mouth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you back there,” he gasped. “I was afraid if I slowed down I’d just take you right there in the hallway.”

You smirked. “Have you had enough, yet, big boy?”

You pushed out one last wave of pleasure at him, and he whined and shook in your arms. You really hoped he had, because you weren’t sure how long you were going to last either, seeing him this needy for you.

“God yes. You win. Please…please, finish me.”

And you could have. Right then and there without laying a single hand on him, but you wanted him just as badly. Bucky tore his shirt off and fumbled with his jeans as soon as he saw you relent, nearly tearing the clothes from your body.

He fell back against the bed and pulled you with him.

No pomp or prelude, just one solid thrust and he pushed into you, gripping you tightly and slotting his lips against yours as he set a furious pace, the result of hours of mutual frustration threatening to set you both ablaze. You moaned his name and your fingers tightened in his hair as you felt yourself near the edge of the abyss.

“…sh-shit, doll, I’m g-gonna—”

“Come for me, babe. I’ve got you.”

And not a moment too soon. Bucky buried his face in your neck and cried out as you fell over the edge together.

Bucky collapsed on top of you, completely spent. A soft curse, and you felt him smile as he twitched in your arms. Soft lips grazed your jaw, his weight pleasantly warm against your body, grounding you and helping to bring you back down to earth.

“Okay…” he panted. “Okay…we are totally doing that again the next time a meeting runs too long.”

“Won’t Steve get suspicious?”

Bucky chuckled. “Naw. He’s not that imaginative. Just make sure you aim true with that power of yours, don’t want to see anyone else squirmin’ in their seat on accident.”

One final, searing kiss, and he helped you up, leading you into the bathroom.

“C’mon, doll. I think we both need a shower after that…and maybe a round two.”


	17. A Second Helping (Fluff, Smutty Language)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and you got frisky between the sheets last night, and breakfast the next morning is just a little bit awkward…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Language, Fluff, Mentions of off-screen smut, Really Bad Food-Related Sexual Innuendos (terrible, honestly, but I try)
> 
> A/N: This one shot is from Tumblr: “Bucky and Y/N spent Thanksgiving at her parents house. The problem is, Bucky can’t look into her parents’ eyes during breakfast because he *knows* just how loud they were last night.” I changed it from Thanksgiving to Holiday because it’s a little late, I hope you like it!!

“Y/N, will you please pass the sausages?”

Your sister sprang to life before you even had a chance to grab the platter. “Here you go, Mom, I think Y/N has all the sausage she can handle.”

Bucky nearly spit out his coffee. You hurriedly clapped him on the back as he choked, his face turning a brilliant beet-red as your sister grinned.

And she wasn’t done.

“Seconds, Bucky? Or did you get enough to eat last night?”

Bucky looked like he was going to melt into the floor. And still, she continued.

“Here, Y/N, would you like some butter for your muffin? Oops, I see Bucky already took care of it for you.”

You were going to kill her.

Your mother cleared her throat, looking to change the topic. “So, James—did you sleep well last night?”

Wide. Fucking. Open.

“Oh, I don’t think he and Y/N got very much sleep at all,” you sister quipped.

You kicked at her viciously under the table, but she scooted out of reach with a teasing grin. Bucky, meanwhile, was turning an alarming shade of crimson as he stared at his plate, doggedly attempting to eat his breakfast and refusing to meet your parent’s eyes. Under the table you grabbed his hand, and he held onto it like a lifeline as he peeked out at you from the corner of his eye.

Bucky was so embarrassed.

See, the thing was, you both _knew_ how loud you were last night. And maybe in the heat of the moment it didn’t matter, but here— _now_ —with your sister grinning knowingly across the breakfast table at you and your parents looking like they’d rather be literally elsewhere…

Awkward did not begin to describe it.

And so it went. Your sister threw barbs, Bucky choked on his breakfast, and your parents pretended like nothing was amiss.

Finally, you straightened, and leveled a glance at your sister. Two could play at this game.

“So…I heard Mark pull up a couple nights ago. I didn’t know you two were still an item.”

Your parents looked surprised, and now it was your sister’s turn to blush.

“Oh yeah,” you continued, halfheartedly suppressing your gleeful tone, “it looked like he brought take-out. Chinese. Looked like he was really excited to unwrap your—I mean, _the_ —fortune cookies.”

Your sister glared daggers at you, but you were relentless.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite him to breakfast, honestly, he would’ve enjoyed helping you prepare the…melons.” You offered the bowl of mixed cantaloupe and honeydew to her. “I’m sure he’d have been quite thorough.”

Bucky once again choked on his coffee, but this time it was out of laughter instead of embarrassment. 

Your sister wryly lifted her coffee cup in salute. “Touché.”

Eventually, the interminable holiday breakfast came to a close. Goodbyes were said, disapproving glances leveled between siblings, and before you knew it, you were piling into the car alongside Bucky.

He snatched you up in a tremendous hug, and you couldn’t stifle a giggle.

“That was the most awkward and terrifying breakfast I have ever had,” he said. “You are amazing, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky, let’s go home.”

As he slid behind the driver’s seat, Bucky snuck you a look.

You stared at him. “What?”

Bucky smiled coyly, and started the car. “Oh, nothing…just wondering what you wanted to eat tonight.”

“To eat?”

“For dinner.”

You hummed. Saw the twitch of his lips, the flush in his cheeks. The quick rise and fall of his chest and the playful expression of his face.

Once again, two could play at this game.

“Oh,” you said, “I thought we’d just eat in. I’d like a second helping of what I had last night. How about you?”

Bucky grinned. “I think I’ve got all I want right here.”


	18. Traditions (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky surprises you, and you ring in the New Year together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Pure fluff, a wee bit of Reader self-doubt

_“…you’re watching Dick Clark’s New Years Rockin’ Eve, only on ABC. We’ll be right back after this…”_

You looked up at the clock and sighed. One hour to go. You didn’t really care about watching the ball drop, it was more of something to pass the time than anything else.

Truth be told, you were already a little tired, but you just could not get to sleep. Tony’s New Year’s Eve party was still in full swing downstairs, and despite the thickness of the walls, you could still hear laughter drifting up from the party.

You’d stayed as long as you could, but as always, you felt out of place. Self-doubt and awkwardness had crept in, and you found yourself hugging the wall, pasting on a smile when someone made a joke and pretending to follow along with the flow of conversation if only to drown out the voice in your head. The one telling you that nobody wanted you there in the first place, that they were just waiting for you to leave, that you weren’t good enough.

_This is better. For everyone. Just sitting up here where I can’t bother anyone—_

A knock at the door stirred you from your spiral of self-doubt, and you poked your head out of the burrito-roll of blankets on the couch.

“Who is it?”

“It’s uh, Bucky. Can I come in?”

“I’m not really in the mood for company.”

That was a lie. If there was anyone’s company you craved, it was the blue-eyed super soldier that you—along with nearly every other woman in the Tower—had a crush on. The problem was, as nice as Bucky was too you, that little voice always told you that it was just because he was a nice guy, and that he pitied you.

“Pleeease?”

That caught you off guard. Why did he even care?

“C’mon, doll, if you don’t let me in I’m gonna drop this stuff and make a huge mess, it’s kinda awkward to carry.”

_What on earth?_

You opened the door. Bucky was standing there with a shy smile on his face. He’d traded his tux for jeans and a flannel shirt, just casual enough to not be imposing, but enough to bring a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Okay if I come in? I don’t want to drop this stuff.”

Speechless, you stepped aside as he brushed past you, depositing two huge slices of cake, two glasses, and a bottle of champagne on your coffee table. Then he stood, glancing at your nest of blankets on the couch.

“I uh, hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “I just saw that you left the party early and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Instantly, you felt your face heat. “No, no—I’m fine, I’m just tired. I didn’t want to be a bother, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“I don’t think you’re a bother, I wanted to,” he said quickly. “Besides—nobody should be alone on New Year’s Eve.”

When you didn’t say anything, Bucky took a hesitant step towards you.

“I _wanted_ to do this,” he said again. “I know I didn’t have to.”

“O-Okay.”

“Is it okay if I sit?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah.”

You hurriedly cleared your blanket nest from the couch, your ears burning. Bucky tried to help, but you were so embarrassed you nearly yanked the blankets from his hands. As soon as he sat down next to you on the couch, that little voice in your head started talking.

_It’s a lie. He doesn’t want to be here, he just feels sorry for you. He’s probably just watching the clock, waiting until he can leave. Look at you—messy hair and a baggy sweatshirt, you look disgusting. There is no way he would ever look twice at someone like you—_

“Are you okay?”

You had been so wrapped up in your own head that you hadn’t noticed Bucky staring at you with concern. Your shoulders fell.

“No,” you whispered.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky flashed you a soft but crooked smile, and you melted a bit. “I just happen to be an excellent listener. Or so I’m told.”

“And so humble, too.”

Where the hell did that come from?! You nearly clapped your hands over your mouth, but Bucky just burst out laughing.

“All right, all right—you caught me.” He stared at you, his eyes shining with mirth and another emotion you just couldn’t place. Then, his smile faded a bit.

“Seriously, what’s going on? I, uh…I got a little worried when you left early, I thought maybe something happened.”

“No, no—it was nothing like that.” You sighed. “I just…feel really down tonight, and when I’m like that I can really get too wrapped up in my own head. It’s just better that I’m not around people, you know?”

Bucky frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just…I feel…awkward, I guess. Like nobody wants me there. Like everybody’s just waiting for me to leave, and I say the stupidest things, and _oh god_ I realize I sound like the biggest train wreck right now—”

“Hey.” Bucky stopped your rant with a hand on your wrist. It was warm and strong and it sent a tingle of electricity surging up your arm as he slid it down to hold your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “You’re not a train wreck. I know what it’s like to get caught in your own head, and it sucks. Trust me—they want you there. I want you there.”

He gave your hand a squeeze. “You left the party, and it left a void. But I get not being up for crowds, so…I brought the party to you.”

Bucky smiled. It was so infectious that you felt your own doubts melt away, and you returned his smile.

“There she is.”

A final squeeze of your hand, and he divvied up the cake and poured the champagne. It was delicious, and it made a tiny part of you wish you had stayed at the party.

Only a very tiny part though, because most of you wouldn’t trade your current position for anything—cuddled on the couch with Bucky, his arm around you, both of you laughing as you made fun of the show.

“Ugh, this show’s terrible,” you said.

Bucky laughed. “It is, but you’ve gotta see the ball drop. Besides—the best traditions are just a little bit corny. It’s what makes them special. And I’m glad I could share this one with you.”

Gradually, you sank further and further into him. Bucky finally grew bold enough to pull you back into his chest, and he sighed as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. His arm was slung low across your waist, and you instinctively leaned into his warmth.

You looked up at him, and suddenly noticed just how fast he was breathing. You noticed how the blue in his eyes had given way to black, and how he bit his lip nervously. Your heart started to race.

“Why’d you come here, Bucky, really?”

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking down at the blanket that was spread over you both.

“I was worried about you, and I didn’t want you to be alone. Honestly, that was the main reason.” Then, he sighed. “And the other reason…Nat threatened physical violence if I didn’t, and I quote, ‘stop screwing around and tell you how I feel before it’s too late.’”

Once again, you were speechless. Bucky must have taken your silence for rejection, because he started to pull away.

“I’m sorry, that was probably a bit much. I didn’t—it wasn’t my intention—”

“No, no. It’s okay.”

Your heart was thundering in your ears. Bucky Barnes liked you. He really _liked_ you.

_Say something, goddamnit!_

“Bucky, I’ve had the biggest crush on you, ever since I’ve met you. You’re always so kind to me, so nice. You make me feel like I can be myself around you, as hard as that is for me. I’m really, really glad that you came here tonight.”

He exhaled sharply, and his lips twitched. “You—really?”

“Really.”

The way he looked at you just then. Like you were the most precious thing in the world, and he was just realizing that you could be his. Bucky took a deep breath, and his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily.

Suddenly, you were interrupted by the voices chanting on the television.

_“…Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven…”_

“Almost New Years,” you said, your voice husky.

“Yeah.” Bucky seemed frozen, his body blazing heat next to yours as the countdown ended.

_“…Happy New Year!”_

Bucky inhaled sharply, his hand tightening in your grasp. “I-I’d really like to…would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“Of course…it’s only tradition,” you said. Then you smiled, wondering where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from.

Bucky huffed and closed the distance, cradling your face in his hands as the world and all its worries melted away.

It was slow. Gentle and sweet, everything a first kiss should be. His lips were soft and moved when yours did, a little hesitant but with a fiery passion that blazed underneath.

Gently, he pulled you back on top of him, stretching out along the couch. On the television, New York City was singing _Auld Lang Syne_ as drunken revelers rang in the new year. You and Bucky were oblivious to it, though. Your world consisted only of each other, and in that moment, it was everything.

There in his arms, the calendar clicked over into another new year. A new year, full of exciting possibilities. You tenderly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Will you stay tonight?”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to. Happy New Year, doll.”

“Happy New Year, Bucky.”


	19. And There Was Only One...Shower? (Smut, Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky enjoy a hot shower after a long day in the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: **18+** Smut, PWP, Male masturbation, Fluff. (Please read the the warnings, if you are under 18, DNI. Your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.)

Seventy-two hours in the field. A literal field, complete with mud and rain and something you’d rather not think about that kept trying to crawl up your pants leg.

And what had you gotten out of it? Zip. Zilch. The recon was a complete bust. Seventy-two hours’ worth of wasted effort, soaked to the skin with mud in places you didn’t even know you had. While it didn’t look like your companion was faring any better than you, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Just as stoic and grim as when you’d started out on this mission.

“We’re all set. Grab your shit.” Bucky flipped you an old-fashioned motel key, complete with plastic fob. “I, um…made sure there were two beds.”

“How very thorough of you,” you said dryly.

It wasn’t that you and Bucky hated each other—indifferent was more of an appropriate term. Whereas you were a never ending source of quippy comebacks, Bucky was a sphinx. A blank mask hiding any thought or feeling the man ever had, and it aggravated you to no end.

Finally you had decided the hell with it, you’d just ignore him. He was a solid partner and a great agent in the field, approaching each mission with a level of quiet focus that was admirable. But that was about it. No budding friendship, no sarcastic volleys like you shared with Sam and Steve. For Bucky and you it was black and white.

The mission, and nothing else.

The motel room, as motel rooms go, was unremarkable. Brown, brown, and more brown, seventies-era wood paneling and two queen beds that looked like the last bedding update had been around the same time-period. An awful green shag carpet with god-knows how many stains, and you made a mental note to never take off your socks.

But, it beat a mud puddle in the middle of Bumblefuck, Oregon.

“Go ahead.” Bucky gestured vaguely towards the shower as he set down his bag on the bed nearest the door. Protectively situated between you and the main point of entry.

You started to argue out of deference, but Bucky was already disarming himself, pulling the gun cleaning kit out of his pack and setting it up. You mumbled your thanks and stalked off towards the bathroom.

You walked right into the tiny shower fully clothed, rinsing the mud off your uniform before stripping. You weren’t sure if you would have to wear it again soon, and it was the most efficient method of doing laundry under the circumstances.

Admittedly, you spent longer than normal under the tap. Washing the dirt and the grime, moaning with pleasure as water almost hotter than you could stand rained down on you, not even caring who could hear you. Easing the ache from your limbs and making you feel almost human again.

When you exited Bucky’s back was turned away from you, and he pointedly avoided your glance as he grabbed up his shower kit and headed for the bathroom. As he passed you could see his face was flushed, his fists clenched as he practically slammed the door behind him.

Rolling your eyes, you tugged on your sleep clothes as you heard him undress and the shower turn on. You pulled out your phone and settled into bed, answering several missed texts from Steve and Nat.

It started off so quiet, you almost missed it.

A small whimper from behind a closed door. A sound wholly unlike anything you’d expect to come from the man within, and it had you on your feet in seconds. Was Bucky hurt? You wouldn’t put it past him to hide it, but you’d literally done nothing other than lay in a field side by side for the past couple days. Not a single shot had been fired.

Padding closer, you started to hear soft sighs. A moan. Unintelligible Russian being murmured as you heard the distinct slapping sound of a man jerking off.

You exhaled sharply, heat pooling down low. Bucky was masturbating. He was touching himself, and it surprised you how quickly and thoroughly it affected you. The heat in your core raged from smoldering ember to open flame, and you edged closer.

He was panting now. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was strained. Soft, breathy little whines spilled from his throat, and you nearly groaned in frustration.

Because as indifferent as you had pretended to be, you were hopelessly in love with Bucky Barnes.

It was his rigidity, his attention to detail and his devotion to the task at hand. His melancholy nature and his dark broodiness that drew you in. Such a beautiful man, so hurt and tormented by a past that hadn’t been his choice. Yet deep beneath that rigid wall, a soft and kind man you’d only gotten glimpses of.

You wanted to know him. To be close to him, to comfort him, but Bucky pushed everyone away at every chance he got. Everyone except Steve, which was why you had never allowed yourself to hope.

Your ear was nearly pressed against the door as you listened to Bucky come closer and closer to his release, panting with effort.

_This is wrong. I shouldn’t be—what is wrong with me? This is a private moment, I’m intruding, and—_

You heard your name.

Whispered. Almost too soft to hear. Moaned tenderly again as his breath hitched and you heard him fall over the edge. A soft curse followed by more words muttered in Russian, but your brain had already frozen.

Bucky had been touching himself and thinking of you.

Slowly, with hands that weren’t your own, you eased the door open. You knew he heard it. His breath hitched, and through the translucent shower curtain you could see he’d gone utterly still.

“Bucky.”

It was spoken softly, and through the gap in the curtain you saw his chin slowly rise, eyes meeting yours. They were guarded but naked in their want and vulnerability. Feeling caught. Wanting you, but unsure if you returned the sentiment.

“Bucky.”

His chin raised at the second utterance as if in challenge. He _knew_ you knew now, but to your surprise, he was unashamed. Merely watching. Waiting.

Slowly, you stripped off your bedclothes, painfully aware of how his eyes raked down your exposed flesh. But he had already bared himself too you, unwittingly so, and it was only fair that you returned the gesture.

Completely nude, you stepped into the shower.

The spray was still hot almost past the point of tolerance, and a small corner of your brain marveled at the ancient motel’s capacity for hot water. All of that was pushed out of your mind, though, as Bucky took a step towards you, his chest heaving and his body quivering with want.

He gasped, and flinched as you touched him. Lightly, on his chest. Fingers trailing down over his pectorals, across the angry scar tissue and down his tight abdomen, and you wondered when was the last time he’d been touched like this.

Bucky’s eyes were closed, and he was trembling. This hard man, undone by a simple caress.

Tentatively, his fingers grazed your waist. Trailing up your rib cage until they met the underside of your breasts, and when his thumbs lightly brushed over your hardened nipples, you gasped.

Bucky’s eyes flew open, colored with fear and uncertainty.

He thought you were afraid of him.

Mouth set, you reached up, one hand cupping either side of his jaw. Bucky stared at you, his gaze impenetrable, but beneath your fingers his pulse beat wildly, betraying the frenzy of his emotions.

You silently asked and he answered, soft and pliant in your hands as you drew him down into a sizzling kiss. Bucky let out a choked cry, his body stiffening slightly before melting into your touch. His hand threaded his way through your hair, and he pulled you close as the dam burst.

Your lips parted and his tongue eagerly obliged, exploring your mouth as he moaned heavily against you. Teeth gnashed and hands grabbed, a breathless rush to be as close as possible.

Bucky slammed you up against the wall of the narrow shower, and you groaned. Possessively, he roughly nosed your head to the side as he made his way down your exposed throat, licking and biting its length. Your fingers dug into the meat of his shoulder blades and he growled, a throaty, feral sound that sent a new wave of desire flooding your veins.

His metal hand gripped your hip and tugged you close, and you gasped as he ground against you. The sound halted him, and he drew back.

Blue eyes sought yours, pleading and hesitant. “Y/N—do you want this? I need to know. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want this, Bucky. I want you.”

Bucky pounced, and you went willingly. He hoisted you up on his knee, his mouth heavy against yours as first one, then two fingers slipped inside. A heady moan escaped your lips, and Bucky grinned as he brushed his thumb over your clit.

“God, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he panted. “So long, and you’re…you’re incredible. Look at you, comin’ apart on my hand.”

Not to be outdone, and despite the aching heat that was raging out of control between your legs, you took him in hand, sinking your teeth into the muscle where his neck met his shoulder. Bucky faltered and choked, and you felt him pulse in your hand as you bushed your thumb over his tip and started to stroke.

“Not half as long as I’ve wanted you,” you growled in his ear. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

The slip of a third finger inside was his answer, and your head slammed back against the tile as his mouth hungrily sought your breast, his tongue gliding sinfully across your nipple as you tilted precariously over the edge.

“…need you. Bucky, I n-need you now.”

In one swift movement Bucky set you on your feet, spinning you around and grasping you around the middle before your knees could buckle. One hand guided himself to your entrance as you tilted your hips back, his hand light on your throat and his breath heavy in your ear as he buried himself inside you.

You cursed, teetering blissfully between pleasure and pain, the stretch almost more than you could bear as he filled you. Bucky froze, hissing through his teeth as he allowed you to adjust, motionless save for the thundering of his heart against your back, and you felt him twitch as you wiggled your hips against him.

Bucky began to move.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he murmured, “like you were made for me. So goddamn perfect. God, I could stay in you all night long. Fuck you right into the mattress, till the only name you know is mine.”

Where the hell was this coming from? The man who hardly ever said a word was certainly vocal now, moaning and panting and praising you up one side and down the other as he quickened his pace. Uttering praises in the same breath he promised all sorts of debauchery, and you felt the fire rage out of control.

“Harder…fuck. Fuck me harder, Bucky, please.”

“Christ, the mouth on you,” he groaned as he obliged, gripping your hips tighter as he pounded into you. Stars were exploding behind your eyes, and your hands scrabbled uselessly against the tile until Bucky reached one hand up, pinning your wrists together.

“…g-gonna…I’m gonna come.”

“Let it go, sweetheart, I want to hear you.”

Bucky’s fingers brushed over your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge with a stifled cry. His thrusts grew erratic, prolonging your orgasm mercilessly before you felt him shudder, the most sinfully beautiful sound escaping his lips before he buried his face in your shoulder, twitching against you as you both came down.

For the longest time you both just stood there on wobbly legs, supporting each other against the tile as you struggled to catch your breath. The water finally started to grow cold and Bucky pulled out, shutting it off and reaching around the curtain to grab a towel.

Instead of toweling himself off, Bucky turned his attentions to you, purposefully avoiding your gaze as he patted your skin and your hair dry. A war seemed to be raging inside him, and his return to sudden silence spoke more than words ever could.

Finally, it was too much for you. You firmly took the towel from him, returning the favor as you stared at him, waiting for him to meet your gaze.

Slowly, blue eyes met yours. You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair, surprised when Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed and he hummed contently.

“Bed?” you asked.

Bucky nodded and he let himself be led, not to the bed he’d chosen, but to yours. You tossed your bag onto the spare bed, and pulled back the covers.

Still though, as you both climbed beneath the sheets, he positioned himself on the side closest the door. The protective barrier between you and any outside threat.

Bucky lifted his arm and you curled into his side, resting your head against his chest. Blankets were pulled up, and you sighed happily as he wrapped his arms around you, lips pressed to your temple in a soft and tender kiss.

“You know,” he said quietly, “it’s really a shame we didn’t get any of the intel Steve wanted us to. I really hate to waste a trip like this.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Maybe we should…try another stab at it.”

“Might take a couple days. Maybe even a week. That’s a long time to be sittin’ in a muddy field.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I have you to come home to at the end of the day.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, drawing your chin up so he could see your eyes.

“You mean that?”

You smiled. “I’d sit up in a hundred muddy fields for you, Bucky.”

Bucky made a face. “I’m…honored, I guess? That’s not the usual sentiment.”

You slapped him lightly across the stomach, and he threw his head back and laughed. The sound lit up your soul.

“I’m serious, you jerk. I wouldn’t even mind all the creepy crawlies trying to slither up my pant legs.”

“You gotta blouse your pants over your boots, doll,” Bucky grinned. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“So we’re staying?”

Bucky brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. “I’m game if you are…I’d like to have a few more days to ourselves before we get back home and everyone descends upon us.”

“So…there’s an us?”

“If you want there to be.”

You nodded, nosing up and capturing his lips with yours. Bucky’s eyes flashed as you rolled on top and straddled his hips. He was still flushed from the shower and the night’s activities, looking up at you so prettily you felt yourself melt all over again.

“I do. Let’s stay.” You threaded your fingers through his, pinning his hands over his head. “Although, I think next time, you can get a room with only one bed.”


	20. Dream a Little Dream of Me (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't sleep, and Bucky comforts you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a request from Tumblr , she wanted “some comfort so I was wondering if you could write a Bucky Barnes x reader, where he finds her on the couch, crying in the living room (she’s scared to go back to sleep) in the middle of the night and he cuddles her back to sleep.” I hope you like it!

You awoke with a start. Terrified, and for a couple of minutes you couldn’t remember why. A cold sweat drenched your body and you felt an overwhelming sense of dread as you stared around your darkened bedroom.

Then it came back to you. Horrible images from your dream, your worst fears realized in vivid technicolor, so real it even _smelled_ convincing. You could still hear the echoes ringing in your ears.

This had been going on for days, and you couldn’t understand why. Terrible dreams. Dreams so real they hung with you for hours afterwards. Something straight out of a Steven King novel, and they had you pulling your feet securely under the covers and tucking several pillows around your body as a makeshift barricade against the boogey-man.

It was even starting to affect your work. Deep, dark bags under your eyes were now commonplace, along with a puffiness no amount of makeup could hide. You found yourself nodding off during meetings, barely able to make it through your shift without an insane amount of coffee.

You flipped on all the lights and walked to the bathroom, refreshing yourself and preparing to take another fruitless stab at sleep. Unseen hands reached for you from the shadows on your way back, and you leapt into bed, tucking the covers securely about you.

_What am I—five? Afraid of the dark?_

Shame and disgust washed over you, and your spirits plummeted even further still as you settled into bed. Walking yourself through several calming exercises you’d read about online. You felt yourself drift off, and exhaustion claimed you again.

But not for long.

This time it was a scream. Ripped from your throat as you bolted upright in bed. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you snatched up your blanket, wrapping it around you protectively as you ran out of the door to your room, needing to be anywhere but there.

The Tower was silent. Dark, and quiet. You padded into the common room in stockinged feet, curling up on the couch as you stared out the large picture window. There were still shadows here, but at least this room held the happy memories of time spent with your friends.

You glanced at the clock—shit! Was it really three in the morning? It felt like you’d been awake forever. You were so tired.

So very, very tired.

But you were afraid. Afraid that if you tried to sleep again, the dreams—no, let’s call them what they are—the _nightmares_ would come back.

God, you just wanted to sleep.

You brushed at the wetness on your face. You weren’t sure at what point you’d started crying, but now that you’d recognized it, it was like a dam had burst. Great, heaving sobs, silently racking your body as you curled upon yourself, trying to scrabble for purchase as reality started to tilt.

“Y/N?”

The foreign sound stilled you. You recognized the voice—it was Bucky, walking slowly into the common room behind you.

You sat up. Wiping at your face, embarrassed. As if you could honestly pretend you weren’t just sobbing your eyes out like a child, right in front of the worlds most deadly assassin. God—how weak he must think you are.

Bucky didn’t ask if you were okay. To be fair, it was pretty obvious you weren’t, and you were glad he just bypassed that stage. Instead, he crouched down next to you, giving you space.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “N-Nothing. Nothing happened, I’m just…” you drifted off. How were you going to tell _him_ that you had bad dreams. Bucky. The Winter Soldier. Your dreams weren’t real—things that hadn’t actually happened, but you knew all too well what horrors awaited him at night.

Frowning slightly, he took your hand in his, and you knew he could feel the tremble there. His frown deepened, a knowing sadness leeching into his expression as he intertwined your fingers, and finally, his eyes flicked to yours.

“I can’t sleep.” It was blurted out before you could even stop yourself. Bucky’s chin lifted as if to tell you to go on, and you did. “I’m so tired, but I…I have these dreams. They’re so real, and I can’t—”

“How long has this been happening?”

Spoken so softly, so knowingly.

“A couple of months.”

Bucky nodded. “Would it be upsetting if I were to ask what they were about?”

You told him. In vivid detail. You felt ridiculous, talking about your nightmares with a grown ass man, but the look on his face told you he was taking it seriously.

“I know,” you said. “It’s stupid. It’s pathetic—”

“It’s not stupid,” he snapped. Bucky’s face softened, seeing the look on yours. “I’m sorry, I just hate that your beating yourself up over this. I hate that your suffering because of it.”

You frowned, confused.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “I know who you are, Y/N. You’re one of the best analysts that we’ve got. The shit that passes by your desk, the things you have to see…its enough to give anyone nightmares. It’s not surprising that you’re internalizing it now.”

Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed his fingers against his cheek. His touch was so gentle, so loving, that you couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down.

“Can I sit next to you?”

Wordlessly, you nodded. Bucky sat on the couch next to you, opening his arms and inviting you to crawl closer. He leaned back as you curled into his side, drawing the blanket over you both.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered.

“Shh…I know, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and try to relax, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

You snuggled deeper into his side, cocooned by the warmth of his body as he held you tight. For the longest time, the only sound you could hear was the soft sigh of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart, gently nudging you towards sleep as he tenderly rested his head against yours.

Then he softly began to sing.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper, “I love you”_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

It was an old song. A very old song, one you’d heard your grandparents playing on their record player when you were little—Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, you recalled. But as sweet as it had been, it couldn’t hold a candle to the voice singing to you now, soft and sweet and low. Soothing your nerves and filling you with a delicious, lazy warmth that had your eyes starting to droop.

“…you sing beautifully,” you murmured sleepily.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but you felt him smile just before he pressed a long kiss to your forehead. He continued to sing softly, petting your head as you fell further and further into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

_Sweet dreams, til sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams, whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me._


	21. Right Between the Eyes (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day, but when the neighbor that you’ve been pining for literally knocks you off your feet, you might just have to reconsider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, A wee bit of blood, Mutual Awkwardness and Nerves, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a prompt as part of Bucky Barnes Valentine’s Fic Exchange on Tumblr. They left it completely up to me, so I went with an idea for an accidental meet-cute that I’ve been wanting to write. This is my first time participating in a fic exchange, I hope you like it!

The wind swirled down the avenue, and you pulled your coat tighter around you. It wasn’t snowing hard, but the temperature had been in the teens for the past week, and what snow had fallen, had stayed.

The traffic crawled up Ocean Avenue, tail lights winking merrily in between the snowflakes. You hustled across the crosswalk with the rest of the foot traffic, juggling an armload of files from work and heading down into the subway. Pressed in hip to hip with the rest of humanity, trying not to notice how everyone seemed to be cuddling or snuggling against someone but you. 

God, you hated Valentine’s Day.

The one day of the year where you were reminded, painfully, of how utterly single you were, and not by choice. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried—you were just shy and a little awkward. For god’s sake, the last time you’d actually had something even remotely similar to a boyfriend was laughable, and as for sex, well…that was a topic best left uncontemplated.

So yes, you weren’t a fan of February the fourteenth.

And if that wasn’t enough, this was Valentine’s _Weekend_. The hated day was actually tomorrow, but you knew that wouldn’t stop happy lovers from holding hands and staring dreamily into each other’s eyes, standing lip locked on the sidewalk and holding up traffic. Practically rubbing it in your face, along with all the other overly obnoxious public displays of affection that left you wanting to vomit.

To be fair, though, you had gotten one Valentine’s Day card this year. From your mother. It had a picture of those chalky little candy hearts—the ones that tasted like antacids—and on the inside it read, “You’re the sweetest.”

Might as well have read, “Better luck next year.”

Whatever. Screw it. You were going to spend the entire weekend binge watching Battlestar Galactica wrapped up like a human burrito, and not poke your head out of your door until Monday morning.

But tonight… _tonight_ , you would watch the saddest move you could find, bawl your eyes out, finish off that ice cream in your freezer, and wallow. Yes, a nice two-to-three hour wallow before bed sounded pretty nice. Maybe followed by a bubble bath…

You were so focused on formulating your plans for the night, that you didn’t notice the door to your apartment building fly open until it was too late.

_Wham!_

The edge of the door hit you right in the face and your head snapped back, stars exploding behind your eyes as you stumbled…right onto the icy patch in front of the door. Your feet shot out from under you and you went down in a flurry of files and papers, sprawling ungracefully on the sidewalk.

“Oh my god! Shit—are you—”

A startled yelp, and the owner of the voice hit the icy patch as well, arms pinwheeling and trying to catch himself as he went down, landing right on top of you. You grunted as what felt like a solid wall of muscle pushed you back down against the filthy sidewalk.

Hands to your face, you blinked blearily through the tears that had gathered and looked up at your unwitting attacker, your stomach sinking when you realized who it was.

James B. Barnes, also known as the hunk in 5B, although that last bit wasn’t included on the nameplate of his mailbox. Your neighbor. Devastatingly handsome and with a body that wouldn’t quit, he’d been the object of several less than appropriate daydreams on your ride in to work. He’d always been distantly polite to you, and you seriously doubted whether he even knew you existed.

You’d been harboring a secret crush on him since you’d moved in, and currently, he was sprawled across your lap, his face inches from yours.

“Aw, fuck…jesus.” The man was groaning, gingerly trying to extricate himself from your limbs. “I’m so, so sorry, miss, are you—shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

That was when you felt the warmth trickling down your face. Your nose was throbbing, and while you didn’t think it was broken, you were positive it looked pretty gruesome. Cursing, you pinched it back and fumbled in your purse for a tissue. “It’s okay, it’s not that bad—I’m just prone to nosebleeds in this weather.”

“Especially if a dumbass clocks you in the face with a door,” he said, reddening. “Here—tilt your head back, it’s gushing pretty good. Just lean against me, I’ve got you.”

James cradled you in his arms, pinching your nose shut and trying to stop the flow while he dabbed at the blood on your face with the tissue. His hands were shaking slightly, but his touch light and gentle. “I am so, so sorry. I was running late—just looking down at my phone and not where I was going. I didn’t even check before I swung that door open. I am _so sorry_.”

“I-It’s really okay.” Now that your head had started to clear a bit, mortification was quickly setting in as you realized what a compromising position you were in.

“No, it’s not. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” James dabbed at your face a couple more times, blue eyes intense with concern. “There, I think it’s stopped for now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no. I’m good. Um, thank you.” Face burning with embarrassment, you scrambled out of his lap and started trying to pick up your scattered papers, praying your nose wouldn’t start bleeding again.

“Here, let me help.”

You could tell he felt awful. You supposed you would too, if the positions had been reversed. So you let him help you gather your files off the sidewalk, trying not to notice how pretty his cheeks looked flushed against the cold or the nervous dart of his tongue between those full, pink lips. Trying not to notice the precise shade of his eyes, almost more grey than blue, or the way he reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“…were you headed?”

You shook your head to clear it—he’d been talking to you, and you weren’t even listening. “I’m sorry, what?”

He blushed again, looking sheepish. “I um, just asked where you were headed. I don’t want you to have to walk very far, I could call you a cab, or—”

“Right here. I, um…I actually live right here. In this building.”

This was mortifying. Of course he didn’t recognize you—why would he?

But to your surprise, Bucky’s eyes widened, and he sat back in shock. “Oh, shit. You’re—you’re Y/N. In 5A. God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“It’s okay. We haven’t really met officially.”

“No, it’s pretty embarrassing. Not only did I manage to smack you in the face with a door and fall on you, but I didn’t even recognize my own neighbor.”

To your surprise, you let out a genuine laugh. “It’s really okay, I’m pretty sure I look like a hot mess right now,” you said, gesturing towards your face.

“You do look a little gruesome,” he winced. “Will you let me carry these up for you and get you an ice pack or something? I feel just horrible about this.”

Part of you wanted to politely decline, if only to put this entire, awkward encounter behind you. But you knew he was just as embarrassed as you were, probably more so.

So you agreed. _Just to make him feel better_ , you told yourself.

James helped you to your feet, one hand braced under your arm for support as he carefully guided you both around the icy patch. Luckily, nothing else seemed to be bruised or battered from your fall, but he still kept glancing at you in concern. Approaching his apartment, he fumbled momentarily for his keys, pushed the door open, and stepped aside.

“C’mon in, watch your step, I’ve got a cat that likes to ambush guests—oh, crap.” He halted, looking worriedly back at you. “I didn’t even ask if you were allergic.”

“No, it’s okay. I love cats,” you laughed, spying the little white fluffball and reaching down to pet her.

“Thank god—the way my luck’s been going today, I was worried you’d be deathly allergic or something.”

“No, you’re good,” you smiled. “What’s her name?”

“Alpine.” He bent down and rubbed the cat’s ear affectionately, and gave you a little smile back.

It amazed you how easy it was to talk to him. Usually you were a stumbling mess when you had to talk to guys, but something about him—maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say—it put you at ease. James sat you at the kitchen counter as he rummaged in the freezer for an ice pack. He sat beside you, and gently started wiping the dried blood from your face with a damp cloth.

“Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything?” you asked. “Wait—didn’t you say you were running late?”

He shrugged. “I was just heading out to meet some friends, this is more important.”

Your heart swelled, hearing that taking care of you was more important to him than his plans, but you told yourself not to get your hopes up. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like you. History had proven that.

Still, the touch of his hands was nice, and you felt a little smile tug at your lips.

“It’s pretty.”

He said it so quietly, you almost didn’t hear him. Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked at him in confusion.

“When you smile…it’s pretty.” James blushed again, and he looked down. “You don’t smile very much…when I see you in the hall, I mean. I thought maybe I did something, because you usually run the other way when you see me.”

He was rambling a bit, and you suspected he hadn’t meant for you to hear him.

“It’s not you…I’m just not very good with people.”

“I’m not either,” he admitted. “Just look at us—we’ve lived across the hall from each other for almost a year and we never met until today. _And_ I had to hit you in the face with a door to do it.”

You laughed, and a bright smile lit up his face. Now that— _that_ was pretty. James was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and you were getting the sense that he was just as beautiful inside as he was on the outside. You’d give anything to have him look like that at you every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the ice pack. “You might have a shiner tomorrow, but this’ll at least help the swelling.”

“Thank you, James.”

“Please—call me Bucky.” When he saw your confused look, he explained. “It’s short for Buchanan. My middle name.”

“So that’s what the B stands for.”

“Yeah, it’s a doozy.”

You felt awkwardness starting to creep in again, so you took it as your cue to leave. With one final pat on Alpine’s head, you stood. “Well, I should go—”

“Will you let me take you to dinner?” he blurted. “As an apology, I mean. I’d like to take you to dinner, if that’s okay. Not tonight, of course, I’m sure you’ve had just about enough of me, but maybe sometime…”

“I’m free tomorrow.” You winced as soon as you said it. You’d forgotten. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. He never said it was a date—it was just an apology dinner. He probably had some gorgeous girlfriend he of course had plans with, and now you’d just put him in an awkward position.

But the bright smile was back again, halting your train of thought. “Tomorrow would be great! I just—I wasn’t sure if you had plans, but yeah, tomorrow would be great. Is seven too early?”

“No, seven is fine.”

Your heart was soaring. The ache in your nose and your soggy jeans were all but forgotten—you’d even forgotten all about your plans to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the weekend. Bucky wanted to take you to dinner. Tomorrow. On Valentine’s Day.

_Down girl. He’s just taking you to dinner, it’s not even officially a date yet. Don’t scare him away and for god’s sake stop staring at him!_

You barely remembered saying good night to him, the soft smile on his face the only thing on your mind as you practically floated across the hall and into your own apartment.

***

The next day, that feeling of floating was gone, replaced by utter panic as you tried to sort out what to wear, trying on outfit after outfit, each one dismissed as either too dressy or too casual. Finally, you settled on a tunic dress with leggings and boots—something that would show off your figure, but be comfortable and warm in the wintery weather.

You were so nervous. You hadn’t been on a date in so long, and the last one had ended disastrously. Trying to keep your mind occupied, you tided your apartment, trying unsuccessfully to calm your nerves as you watched the clock count down the minutes until you ultimately embarrassed yourself and ruined the evening.

You were so wrapped up in your own head, that you didn’t even hear him at the door until he knocked the second time. Breathlessly, you raced to the door and yanked it open to see Bucky standing there, his hand still poised mid-knock.

“Hi…sorry, I’m a little early,” he said.

“No, no—it’s okay, I’ve been ready for hours.” _Great, way to sound desperate._ “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous, it’s been a while since I’ve been out on a date.” You cringed. Not only did you manage to sound desperate and awkward—you just called it a date.

But Bucky didn’t correct you. Instead, he relaxed visibly and gave you a genuine smile. “Me too. Thought you might have come to your senses after last night—I almost broke out in hives just trying to decide what to wear.”

“I think you did a good job. You look good—really, _really_ good.”

And he did. His long, chestnut hair was tied back under a peaked cap, lips a deep pink as if he’d been biting them. His navy coat brought out the deep blue in his eyes, and the way his jeans were hugging his thighs really should be outlawed.

“Your face looks good.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. “I’m sorry?”

Bucky cursed. “I mean, where I hit you with the door—I’m glad it didn’t bruise too much. No, you…you look…” he sighed. “Beautiful. You look beautiful.”

He said it like he genuinely meant it, and when he gave you that crooked little smile, you knew you were a goner.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m pretty nervous, and I don’t always think before I speak, so if you could, like, just disregard about half of what I say tonight, that would be great.”

You smiled, relieved that you weren’t the only one. “I’m an awkward rambler myself, in case you didn’t catch it, so you’re in good company.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed. “So, you ready to go to dinner? Because I could probably stand here for at least another thirty minutes making a complete fool of myself.”

“As much as I’d like to see that, I am a little hungry, so let’s go.”

Bucky offered you his arm and you took it, feeling like you were floating about three feet off the ground.

Dinner was perfect. If there was any doubt in your mind if this was a date, it was banished as soon as you entered the restaurant. Nothing too fancy, checkered tablecloths instead of white, but there were candles on the table, the lights low and the setting cozy and intimate.

Bucky took your jacket and pulled out the chair for you, and you nearly swooned. It felt like more than just simple politeness—he actually cared, and those little gestures were his way of showing it.

“I hope Italian’s okay.”

“It’s perfect, Bucky. I’ve never noticed this place, have you been here before?”

“No, my friend Steve recommended it. He said it’s a good place to take a girl if you want to say, ‘sorry for smashing your face with a door’…or for a first date.”

“A first date?”

“If you want it to be.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted it to be. I forgot what today was when I suggested it.”

“I didn’t even realize it until this morning. I’m not really a fan of Valentine’s Day, it’s always been just another day to rub in my face how lonely I was.” Bucky made a face. “Wow, I sound pathetic.”

“You don’t. I feel the same way. Although…it is kind of nice to have someone to spend it with.”

Bucky smiled at you. “It is.”

Dinner flew by. After you had both admitted your nerves, it was like the shadow that had been hanging over the evening had been lifted. Soon, you were joking about it, both of you laughing as you each shared increasingly embarrassing tales and you settled into the business of getting to know one another.

Surprisingly, you had a lot of common interests. Bucky was a huge science fiction nerd, as were you, and his job as a mechanical engineer with Stark Industries fascinated you. He seemed equally as interested in your job, asking intelligent questions and getting you to open up about yourself in a way that had never felt comfortable until now.

Over the course of the evening, the both of you had scooted closer and closer as if drawn together by an invisible magnet. Bucky’s leg brushed against yours accidentally, and when you didn’t move away he blushed, biting back a smile as he absently grazed his knuckles against yours.

After dinner you both strolled aimlessly, neither one of you wanting to call it a night just yet. Large, powder-soft snowflakes had begun to fall, the effect seeming to muffle the sounds of the city. It was beautiful.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours, and you daringly took it without thinking. He froze and looked down. You were just about to pull away, when he gave you a crooked little smile and intertwined his fingers in yours.

“I’m really, really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight, Y/N. I’ve been wanting to ask you out for so long, I just—”

“Wait—what? _You_ wanted to ask _me_ out?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I might have had a teensy little crush on you ever since I first saw you. You were struggling with one of your moving boxes and cursing like a sailor—”

“I remember that! You helped me get it though the door and offered to carry it up for me, but I said no.”

“I know—you were terrifying. Shot me right down.” He dramatically clapped a hand to his heart and pretended to faint.

You laughed at his antics, but then you cringed. “I know, I’ve been told I have quite the resting bitch face, especially when I’m irritated. It was just—you were standing there, smiling and gorgeous and helpful, and I was sweaty and tired and—”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” he teased.

You nodded. “And I might have had a teensy little crush on you, too. You should’ve hit me with the door sooner, we could’ve saved ourselves a lot of heartache.”

A breathy little laugh, and you suddenly realized how close you both were standing. The smile slowly faded from Bucky’s face as he took your other hand in his, eyes flicking briefly down to your lips. He was just starting to lean towards you when a gust of wind whipped down the street, and you shivered.

Bucky grimaced and took off his scarf, wrapping it loosely around your neck. He gently trailed his fingers over your shoulders and down your arms, looking at you thoughtfully.

“I don’t want to call it a night yet, but we should probably get in out of the cold—it’s freezing out here. Do you want to head back to my place? I make a mean hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, but there’s something I’ve got to do, first.”

“What’s that—”

You kissed him. Boldly and without fear, standing on your toes to do it as you gently cupped his jaw. Bucky froze in shock for only a moment, before he moaned and wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back, his lips parting sweetly beneath yours as he pulled you closer.

It was soft and gentle, everything a first kiss should be. There was a fire smoldering just beneath the surface, though, and when his tongue swept into your mouth as you felt that flame ignite. The world narrowed down until you were the only two people left in it, two new lovers kissing beneath the snow-covered trees.

When you parted it was with a reluctant sigh, foreheads pressed together and slightly out of breath. Bucky stared at you, a soft, tender smile traced across his lips. “That was…wow.”

You smiled lazily, still a little dizzy from the kiss. “I’ve never been anyone’s wow.”

“That’s a damn shame. But you’re my wow, if you want to be.”

“I do,” you giggled and tugged at the brim of his hat. “You’re such a dork. But you’re pretty wow yourself.”

“Hey—you’re just as much of a dork, you openly admitted that you’ve watched the entire Battlestar Galactica anthology no less than four times.”

“It was about to be five. That was my plan for avoiding Valentine’s Day.”

“We could still do that…” Bucky pressed another kiss to your lips, and another, softer one along the edge of your jaw, “…and maybe try that kissing thing again. I think I need some more practice with that.”

“I don’t know how much watching we’ll be doing if you keep that up,” you sighed, nipping at his bottom lip. “Not that I’m complaining, though.”

Bucky laughed, and you turned back towards the apartment building. “So, I’ve gotta ask…how do you feel about Valentine’s Day now? Because I might just be a convert.”

You hummed, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. “It might just be my new favorite day of the year, too.”

And it was. The two people that hated Valentine’s Day had fallen in love on that very same day. All it had taken was a wayward door and a stubborn icy patch, and you’d both fallen. Hard.

Cupid’s arrow, right between the eyes.


	22. My Best Girl (Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is in love with his cat sitter, but her pop culture references leave him confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, Mostly fluff but a wee bit of angst, Bucky vs. Modern pop culture references
> 
> A/N: This is a request from Tumblr “I'd love a Bucky x Reader where they've been friends for a while and she makes an offhanded comment of "hey there, it's me, ya girl" (i.e. Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved) "you know, you could be, if you wanted" "what?" "my girl"

“Okay, Barnes—you got this.”

Bucky checked his watch, then checked his hair in the hall mirror for about the thousandth time. He made a face, combing his hands through it before finally sighing in frustration and pulling it back in a low bun.

“You can do this. _You can do this_ ,” he muttered. “A hundred year old grown ass man, been brainwashed and fought in wars, fought goddamn _aliens_ …you can handle asking her out.”

Bucky poured himself another glass of water, hoping it would calm his nerves. Jesus. How did this use to be so easy for him? He never had to think it through this much before, and here he was, a nervous wreck. Palms sweaty, face flushed, and already shaking like a leaf, just at the thought of asking his cat sitter out on a date.

Then again, it had been over seventy years.

This wasn’t just any girl, though. This was _the_ girl. This was Y/N. She was his closest friend outside of the Avengers. A normal girl. And by normal, he meant no superpowers, no tragic backstory or life fraught with danger, no secret enemies plotting to kill her, no late night vigilante escapades.

She was perfect. She was safe. She was his calm amidst the storm, his lifeline tethering him to humanity.

But she was also exciting and spontaneous. She made him smile, made him laugh, made him think…well, things that shouldn’t be thought about outside the bedroom. Things that made that blush on his cheeks darken just thinking about them.

God, he was a mess.

Y/N had been watching Alpine for over a year. He’d found the little white cat as a stray, stuck in a box in an alley and completely drenched. The scrawny thing had peered up at him as if to say, “ _what the hell are you lookin’ at?”_ and they’d taken to each other immediately.

The only problem with owning a cat was his schedule. Bucky was gone a lot on missions, often for weeks—even months—at a time. All his other friends were usually gone with him, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he trusted them with his best girl. He needed a professional.

Y/N had blown into his life like a warm summer breeze, brightening everything she touched. Bucky had answered her ad with the pet agency, and by the end of the meeting she had him smiling and laughing, feeling like he was floating on a cloud as they watched Alpine’s antics.

And as time went on and they grew closer, Bucky couldn’t help but admit he had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

The sound of the buzzer nearly made him jump out of his own skin, and Bucky tripped over the corner of the rug trying to let her up to his apartment. Less than a count of thirty, and she was knocking on his door.

“C’mon, baby—showtime,” he said, swiping Alpine off the back of the couch. The little cat let out an undignified squeak, but settled in her usual perch on his shoulder.

Breathlessly, he swung the door open. “Hey.”

“Hey, Bucky! It’s me, ya girl.”

Bucky choked. _My girl. My girl. My girl?_ Her words were playing over and over in his head, skipping like a broken record as she swept him up into a hug.

Normally, that little display of affection would have him preening like an idiot, his heart a melted puddle on the floor. Not today, though. His brain was currently vapor locked, unable to process further input as it tripped and twisted over the possible meanings of her words.

She gave Alpine a little nuzzle, her face close enough to where he could smell her perfume. She smelled amazing. Gradually, he came back down to earth, kicking himself when he realized she was still talking to him.

“Um, what?”

“I said I’m sorry I’m late, the subway was packed! Asses to elbow, you know?”

“Yeah…wow, um that sucks…it’s okay though, I don’t have to leave just yet.”

He stepped back to let her pass, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he shut it. His heart was pounding. Before, it had just been nerves, but now…now he was just confused.

_My girl? What does she mean by that? I thought we were just friends. Does she like me like that? Does she want to be my girl? What if she doesn’t, and that’s just a saying?_

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

“You look a little flushed. I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was nothing new. Y/N was a very tactile person—unlike most people who thought he didn’t want to be touched, she just dove right in, making feel human again. Right now, though, amidst the swirling confusion and conflicted feelings her words had brought, as well as the startling bulge in his pants that was getting harder to hide by the second—now, it just made him feel like he was about to jump out of his own skin.

_Get it together, Barnes._

“S-Super soldier, remember? I can’t get sick.” He shrugged and let out a nervous little laugh.

“Oh. Okay, well, I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I worry about you, you know, on those missions of yours. The things you guys have to face…”

She shook her head, setting down her bag and pawing through it. Alpine already knew what she was looking for, and leapt down off of Bucky’s shoulder before Y/N could even get the catnip toy out of her bag. Bucky laughed watching her bat it around, his uncertainty pushed to the back of his mind.

“Lucky you, Alpine, Y/N always brings the good kitty weed.”

“I’ve got a good supplier—organic’s the best.”

“She’s gonna be spaced out by the time you get home with her.”

“Gotta spoil my favorite girl.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted, watching the way Y/N played with Alpine. Doe eyed with the sweetest little smile on her face…he wondered what it would be like to be looked at like that by her. He’d probably combust on the spot.

“Don’t be jealous, Buck, I didn’t forget you.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but she was handing him the package before he could even get a word out. He started to peek in it, but she clapped her hand over his.

“Don’t open it yet!”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, it’s just…it’s a care package.” She bit her lip shyly when he still looked confused. “You’re not supposed to open it right away. My friend Becca sends one to her brother overseas—he’s in the Army—I just thought that since you said you’re gonna be gone for a while, I thought it would be nice to have something to remind you of home.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “When…when should I open it?”

“When you need it,” she replied cryptically. “Now—anything goin’ on with this little lady that I should know about?”

His head was spinning. Conflicting signals, all jammed up. Y/N was looking at him expectantly, Alpine curled in her lap, waiting.

“She has a vet appointment on the twenty-first, at three. Just her booster shots, nothing special,” he grated.

“Okay, we can make that happen. When are you due back? You said a month, right?”

“Yeah…I’ll let you know if it runs longer.”

“Okay.”

They chatted a little bit more about their weeks, but a strange new awkwardness had entered the conversation. Bucky felt—no, he _knew_ —it was because of him.

Y/N seemed to take that as her cue to leave. Meanwhile, Bucky was being torn in two. Alpine dutifully trotted in his carrier, and Y/N gathered her supplies.

“Okay, well, you’ve got my number, just give me a ring when you want her back.”

“I will. Stay outta trouble, you.” He pressed a soft kiss to Alpine’s head, wishing it were Y/N’s lips instead.

“…and, um…be safe, will you? Alpine needs her Daddy to come back home.”

And with that, she leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I do too.”

Bucky was speechless. His cheek still tingling, mind a whirlwind of doubt and confusion.

It was only once the door had closed behind her that Bucky realized that he had completely forgotten to ask her out.

***

**Two Months Later**

It was okay though.

Really, it was for the best.

He shouldn’t say anything—he shouldn’t even act—not unless he knows for sure how she feels.

It’s the right thing to do.

But honestly, Bucky was just scared shitless of getting his heart broken.

Nat was staring at him. “What’s going on with you? You look like you’re trying to solve advanced mathematics in your head.”

“He looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm,” Clint supplied unhelpfully.

Steve stared. “Buck, what’s wrong? You’ve been off this whole mission.”

“It’s a woman.”

All four of them turned towards Sam, and he laughed and shook his head.

“I can see it from a mile away. A woman’s got him all wrapped around the axel, and he’s trying to figure it out for himself.”

“Bucky, what’s—”

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

There was Natasha, not too far behind the eight ball. Bucky sighed.

“Yeah. It’s her.”

“What—you like her?”

“He’s in love with her. Any fool can see it,” Nat smirked.

Bucky growled a warning. “Natalia, leave it alone.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” She primly folded her hands across her knee. “You like this girl. I can see it, so can anyone who’s got an eye. So what’s the problem?”

Bucky hung his head, both hands pressed to his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Clint asked. “Either you like her, or you—”

“I mean, I don’t know how she feels about me!” Bucky tore his hands through his hair, but he was at his absolute limit. “One minute she’s calling herself my girl, and the next she’s making me a care package like her friend made for her brother. Her _brother_.”

Nat scowled. “Okay, I think you need to back up a couple steps. What’s this about a care package?”

Bucky sighed heavily. “She made me a care package for our mission. She got the idea from her friend.”

To be honest, Bucky had never been so touched by a gift. True to his word, he had waited until the mission had reached one of it’s darkest moments, and he’d decided to open it.

Inside was a bag of M&M’s and Sour Gummy Worms, a pair of thick, warm socks and a book of crossword puzzles. A DVD compilation of his favorite shows and a bottle of lotion that smelled manly but also just a bit like her. A box of band-aids with a post-it note that read, “You better not need these,” and a couple of his favorite comics that she’d cut out of the newspaper.

And there, at the bottom, was a stuffed animal. A tiny white kitten, that looked uncannily like Alpine.

Sam and Nat exchanged looks. “You honestly think that she did all of that for you…and she doesn’t like you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We’re friends, I get that, it’s just...”

“What?”

Bucky huffed. “She got the idea from a friend who did it for her brother. Her brother. And then, when she came into my apartment, she said, ‘Hey, it’s me, your girl,” but I have no idea what that means, and—”

Nat suddenly leaned forward. “Wait—how exactly did she say it?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and repeated the phrase in the same tone and inflection. Nat pulled back, grinning knowingly at Clint.

“Shane from Buzzfeed,” they said together.

“Who from what?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “It’s a tv show. Buzzfeed Unsolved. It’s something that one of the characters says, but Y/N was quoting it.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. “So…you don’t think she meant…”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That part could go either way, but…the touches, the looks, the _care package_? Man, I think she really likes you.”

“You think?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “I thought you used to be good at this дорогой. Biggest heartbreaker in all of Brooklyn.”

Steve looked at him. “She’s got a point, Buck. Instincts don’t lie.”

“Yeah but do they have an expiration date? Because mine have got about seventy years’ worth of dust building up on top.”

Nat leaned forward. “Then dust them off, grab yourself up by the bootstraps, and for the love of god ask this girl out before it’s too late.”

***

The buzz from the intercom cut like a knife. Heavy breaths blown out, teeth clenched as Bucky resolved himself to do what needed to be done. Come hell or high water…today was the day.

“Hey, Bucky, it’s me…ya girl.”

“You know…you could be…if you wanted to.”

“What?”

She was standing in his doorway, Alpine’s kennel in hand. Bucky was leaning against it, a sudden wave of calm washing over him now that it had finally been aired.

Let the cards fall where they may.

“My girl,” he said. “You could be my girl if you wanted to.”

Y/N bit her lip and slowly sat Alpine’s carrier down. “Is that what you want?”

Ball firmly in his court.

“Yes.”

Y/N nodded. She bent down, opening the carrier and letting Alpine run free. She closed the door behind her.

Then she was kissing him. Soft, sweet lips to his, stealing his breath as he gasped for more, all hands and skin and _oh god,_ she was wonderful. Lips parted and names murmured, months of sexual tension boiling over to this one, poignant moment.

“Why…didn’t you say anything?” he panted.

“I didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for.”

Her lips on his neck, smiling and pulling back slightly. The smile sweetened, and she tucked his hair behind his ear.

“I’m glad you asked, though.”

“So that’s a yes?”

She giggled. “Yes, Bucky. I’ll be your girl.”

Bucky pulled her to him, murmuring happily into her hair. “My best girl.”


End file.
